The Dutiful Wife
by Wendynat
Summary: The wife of an Imperial officer struggles to maintain her sanity and her vision of the truth while wearing the mask of dutiful wife, but when she meets a member of the Rebellion, her duty and her desires clash.
1. Prologue

A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her beta help! I'm aiming to update this weekly, but it may be closer to biweekly on occasion since I'm concentrating on i Severing the Past /i , also. But this bunny wouldn't rest!

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

_WendyNat_

Prologue  
-----------  
"So the Jedi… they weren't evil?"

"Shh," Natrie glanced behind her, through her child's bedroom door. "Not so loud, sweetheart. Your father-"

"I know." Mierie settled back in the bed, blinking. Her daughter fought sleep, as always, her curiosity warring with her tiredness. "Tell me more, Mom. Please?"

She smiled, and stroked her child's hair back. "A little more, then you need to sleep." In a soft, calming voice, she told stories that lay near to her heart. Stories of the truth, the honor of the Jedi. As she spoke of General Kenobi, the Negotiator, and his partner Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, her child's eyes slid shut in contentment.

Although Mierie seemed to be asleep, Natrie continued on. As she spoke, she didn't realize her voice had risen in volume, didn't notice when a dark shadow appeared in the doorway. When she did, her heart leapt to her throat, but she tried to appear nonchalant.

_How much had he heard?_

"And that's why the Emperor was so sad when he found out about their betrayal. They've joined the Force now, and hopefully are paying penance for their treason." She turned, trying to keep the fear from her face, and smiled at her husband. To her relief, he smiled back.

"That's a nice story, Natrie. Is she asleep?" Her husband leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He still wore his Imperial uniform, and she marveled that it was still as unwrinkled as it had been that morning when he donned it.

She nodded.

"It's too bad she missed the best part," he said, gazing at their daughter fondly.

_The best part_. Swallowing, she nodded again and rose, and brought the mask of dutiful Imperial wife back to her face. She hated it, as she hated him, but she would do what she must to protect her child, and to continue to spread the truth.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her beta help! I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter One  
---------------  
Natrie sighed, peering through the crowd to try to catch a glimpse of her husband. The room was large, but broken up in such a way as to create a feeling of intimacy – a perfect venue for a social event of this type, but not the simplest to find a person in. She ground her teeth as she adjusted the strap of her silver gown – it was new, specially ordered for this event by her husband, and she supposed it was quite attractive. However, she would have preferred to choose her own gown. These types of straps never sat well on her shoulders, and she'd told her husband that time and again.

She murmured an apology to a server when she nearly knocked over his tray of faceted goblets while craning her neck to catch sight of her husband. The server looked at her in surprise – more at the apology than the near-accident, she was certain. Seeming to be unsure how to respond, the man apologized profusely and moved off, and she shook her head. Where was her husband? She hoped he would be ready to leave soon, but the more realistic part of her knew that it would be hours, yet, before they could escape. Of course, he wouldn't view it as an escape; he loved these functions, loved the politics and intrigue and social climbing.

She, on the other hand, hated them. She hated having to smile and shake hands with officers below her husband's rank, hated having to smile and bow to the officers above her husband's rank, hated having to socialize with the other wives. There were only a few that were tolerable, one was actually a friend of sorts, but the others… she sighed, and smiled at yet another simpering wife of a lower-ranking officer, and waited for her husband to announce that the evening had grown long. Despite the beautiful surroundings, it was dull to her – a scene she'd experienced a hundred times before. Flocks of decorated women mingled with gray-suited officers, men that wore the uniform as a mark of pride rather than simple cloth. Her husband was one of those men.

Finally, she caught sight of him. She had to admit, he still cut an impressive figure in his sharp, gray Imperial uniform. He was speaking to another officer, of course, but one that was at least two ranks above him to judge by the insignia on his uniform. It would be a long night, she realized as she watched her husband lean his head back and let out that irritating, fake laugh.

It was sometimes hard, on these occasions, to remember the times before. It seemed like it was another lifetime, like it was another Natrie who had gone through the motions and said the words and felt those now-foreign emotions: love, admiration, desire. She hadn't always hated her husband. At one time, she had loved him.

She nodded politely at the younger woman who approached and shook her hand, and took the drink the attractive blonde offered, murmuring a greeting and receiving the woman's name in return. Sera Saan, wife of a junior officer serving under her husband. She stifled a sigh.

As Sera began to drone on, "casually" mentioning the many accomplishments of her husband in an attempt to impress Natrie, her mind began to wander. On the outside, she lifted her eyebrows in feigned admiration, frowned as she pretended to pay attention to the young woman's words, smiled at appropriate intervals. On the inside, she was remembering a lifetime ago, when she had loved her husband. 

When she had first met him, she was very much in love – or what a young, dreamy woman considered to be love. He was dashing and intense and convicted, and when she was with him, there was nothing else around _but_ her. With the wisdom of age, she now wondered if she had been more in love with that feeling of being desired, than in love with the man himself.

It mattered little. At the time, she had been in love, and no one could tell her differently.

Nodding again as Sera paused, Natrie feigned an impressed expression, wondering if this young woman really believed in and loved her husband, or simply loved the extra credits a higher rank would offer. Most of the women she met through the officers' gatherings had fought, tooth and nail, to marry… but they wanted to marry the position, not the man.

Their conversation was interrupted when a server approached with a well-laden tray. She smiled at the server, the first true smile she'd worn since arriving at the formal gathering, and shook her head. "No, thank you." She hated the bubbly drink that was being passed around on shining silver trays, almost as much as she hated the cramping in her cheeks from the false smile she had to maintain. She had mentioned it once to her husband, and only received a blank stare in return; he couldn't understand how she could dislike these events, how the endless maneuvering of sycophants ate away at her patience.

As Sera began to speak again, this time describing how she'd met the perfect man that was her husband, Natrie's mind once again began to wander. A perfect man. When her husband had first courted her, he had been charming and warm, and blazing with an intensity that fascinated her. He truly _believed_ in the new Empire, and his enthusiasm had convinced her, for some years, that it was the correct path for the galaxy to take. How could it not be, when strong young men such as these put their faith in it?

She still remembered how his eyes had lit with a strange fervor when he spoke of meeting the Emperor. At the time, he had been a simple ensign in the Empire's Navy, but the Emperor had taken the time to meet his gaze, had nodded at him, and he was so moved by the experience that, from that moment on, he would hear no ill of the deformed man.

She had little family left, but those that yet lived loved him, for the most part. Her mother had adored Natrie's new suitor, so dedicated and hard-working, so poised to go on to greater things, and so very devoted to her daughter. Mother had been ecstatic when the wedding was announced, though it was sooner than she would have liked. Her aunts, also, loved him, as did her uncle. The only person in her family who did not agree was the one she most wanted to love her new suitor – her father's mother, her last living paternal relative. The old woman had never trusted him, claiming that his smile was too slick, his answers too quick, and his nature too strict and possessive. She'd disliked him from the very instant they had met, her wise eyes darkening as he expounded on the glory of the Emperor. 

Perhaps, if she'd listened to her grandmother in the beginning, she could have avoided the predicament in which she now found herself. But, instead of listening when her grandmother spoke to her about her concerns, Natrie had risen to his defense, all bristling nerves and righteous indignation. The ensuing row had ended with Natrie in tears and her grandmother comforting her, but it had also ended in Natrie flinging herself straight into the man's arms. She would show her. She would show her just how strong their love was, how wonderful her suitor was!

Two months later, she had married the dashing young lieutenant, and they _were_ happy, and they _were_ in love. For a while.

After her marriage, she visited her grandmother once while her husband was on an assignment. They had spoken of the weather and the family, the Empire and the Jedi, but they didn't speak of Natrie's husband. They both carefully avoided the subject, not wishing to argue again about a subject that they knew held no common ground. She had learned, on that visit, that her grandmother didn't believe that the Jedi had betrayed the Republic. The Jedi had protected the Republic for centuries, had protected her family during the war, had taken in two of her sons to be trained as Jedi; the old woman did not believe they could have gone to evil. Natrie, with the 'wisdom' of youth, had shaken her head, and pitied her – she was an old woman clinging to the past, ignoring the truth of the present. Her new husband wouldn't follow an evil man; it was just malicious hate-mongering, and she thought it a shame that someone had filled her dear grandmother's head with such thoughts.

The memory was vivid, still. Even here, in this brightly lit room, surrounded by these followers of the Empire, she could remember it with clarity. She nodded at Sera, made an encouraging noise or two, and then let memory take her.

_"Lies," her grandmother whispered. "They're lies, I know this, but Natrie – be careful. Don't let anyone know. The Emperor… he will not allow such talk. Keep it quiet."_

"Lies? But, Grandma-"

"Listen!" Her grandmother reached up and touched her hair, her cheek, and Natrie was suddenly struck by the trembling in the old woman's fingers. How old was_ her grandmother? "Natrie, listen to me. I don't know everything that happened, but the Jedi were _good_. If they tried to assassinate the Chancellor, it's because it was what had to be done."_

"Grandmother-"

"Natrie," she mimicked, then sat back, her hand falling limply to the armrest of her chair. "You'll see. You'll see, in time. He wants power, that's all. Power and control. Look at what he's done, taking control of the entire Senate, renaming it the Galactic Empire under his rule-"

"The Senate needed a single ruler. Look what happened, with all the star systems arguing and debating things to death, we ended up in war." And my father _died_ in that war_, Natrie thought viciously, but she didn't say it aloud. Her father had been her grandmother's son, after all, and the wound had to bite her even deeper than it did Natrie._

Her grandmother sat forward then, her mouth twisted with some unknown emotion. "Keep that line, Natrie. Remember it, and say it loudly. It is the line of a loyal citizen of the Empire. Of a loyal Imperial wife." A shaking hand reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Natrie's ear. "But in private, don't believe it all. Trust your instincts; trust the truth."

She murmured an affirmative, but they both knew she was just being polite. The curse of youth – she already knew it all, and had no patience for other ideas. 

Shortly after that visit, she had celebrated the first anniversary of her marriage, and found that she carried the child of the man that had charmed her so.

Mierie. She smiled inwardly as she thought of her daughter. Beautiful and bright and with such a caring soul, Natrie doted on her. It was the one thing she and her husband had in common – their love of that young girl. Natrie knew that she saw her through a mother's filter, the filter that made even the most unfortunate-looking child appear lovely and the dullest child appear intelligent, but the feedback she received from tutors and other parents seemed to support her position. She wondered, as Sera droned on, whether the young blonde had children of her own, or if her husband was the focus of all her attention. 

Children.

She took a sip of the drink and barely avoided wincing. The liquid was too rich for her, too sweet, though it seemed to please the young woman talking to her. It reminded Natrie of the sickeningly sweet restoratives that her grandmother had sipped, in her last years of life. And that brought another memory to the surface.

A couple of years after Mierie was born, her grandmother had fallen ill. Leaving Mierie with her husband, Natrie had returned to her grandmother's home for a couple of days, to say her farewells. For the illness wasn't one from which humans generally recovered, and the Empire had no interest in going through extraordinary measures to heal the weak. She understood it intellectually, but it was difficult to accept. Her grandmother was the last real link to her father that she had left.

During her visit, she was careful to appear at her grandmother's bedside only in the presence of others, wishing to avoid another conversation concerning her husband and the Empire; however, on her final day there, she was called alone into the room. And the discussion that followed had opened her eyes, in many ways.

_She had been defending the Empire's actions once again, when her grandmother let out a long sigh and reached out to touch her hand. "What about the children, Natrie? The children in the temple?"_

"They… they were in on the plot…" Natrie faltered, a cold feeling snaking through her. The children. How could they all have been in on the plot? There were many who were far too young to have… what had_ happened to all of the children in the Temple? Surely…._

Her grandmother's eyes were uncompromising. "Exactly. Now you see, Natrie, don't you? Don't just accept anything that is told to you. Question. Never stop questioning, even if just in your own mind."

"Grandmother…" Natrie blinked, glanced at the chronometer on the wall. She would have to leave soon, but she had to know. Were they all lies, then? Everything? The children… "Grandmother, what really happened? Do you know?"

"I don't know for certain, Natrie. If I did, I'd tell you. But mark my words, the Emperor is not the benevolent ruler you believe him to be."

She swallowed, a denial already forming on her lips. Her husband believed in him, followed him, trusted him. How evil could such a man be, that her husband worshipped him so?

But, the children….

"Keep that line in public, Natrie. Remember what you told me, last time? That's the face you show in public. Wear it like a mask – you were an actress in school, you can do it. Support the Empire on the surface. It's not safe for them to know your true feelings." Her grandmother closed her eyes, and Natrie was shocked at how translucent the lids appeared. "Even your husband."

"But-"

"I should say," her grandmother breathed, "especially_ your husband. His ambition…" She shook her head, unable to continue._

Natrie sucked in her breath, but she didn't have the heart to argue. Her father's mother was old and ill, and it was only good that Natrie humored her. She was weak, and didn't need to worry about Natrie. "Yes, grandmother." Natrie hoped that would be enough – she didn't want to lie outright to her grandmother, but she couldn't let the old woman know that she intended to speak to her husband immediately upon her return. How could she expect Natrie not to talk to her husband about this? He was a member of the Imperial military, maybe he had an answer, maybe he knew… yes. There had_ to be an explanation._

But what explanation could there be? They were children.

Even now, when she thought of it, a sick feeling rose in her throat.

"…must be very proud. A lieutenant commander, at his age!"

Natrie snapped her attention back to the present and quickly replayed Sera's words in her mind. She had been so lost in thought that the words of the young officer's wife had washed over her without notice. "Yes, yes I am. Very proud." She hoped that would do.

Apparently, it was an acceptable response. A genuine smile appeared on the woman's face, and for a moment, Natrie was envious. It would be so much simpler if she was still a believer in this sort of thing, if she could get her fulfillment by maneuvering and manipulating her husband's way to the top. In the beginning, Natrie had cared, very much, and worked the room as this woman did. She wondered if, after years more of marriage and playing the game, Sera would still feel the same? Or would she become as jaded as Natrie was now?

"And a fine man, he is. I've heard he quite dotes on you," the other woman said, leaning in as if sharing a confidence. Natrie smiled tightly, and thankfully Sera took the hint and moved on to other subjects. However, her words stuck in Natrie's mind and she pondered them.

Her husband doted on her; it was true, in a way. And she had once doted on him. That had changed, however – well, her side had changed. Love had become disillusionment, which then turned to indifference, which gradually became hate. She could even pinpoint the exact moment when the change began, when the peak that began that slippery slope was first breached. After the final conversation with her grandmother, she'd returned to their home, and tucked Mierie into bed, and then spoken to her husband about her concerns.

It hadn't gone well.

_"But, the children –"_

"I will speak no more of this. Take it from your mind." 

"But-"

"That is final." His voice came out in a poisonous hiss and he moved closer, looming over her from his greater height. "Don't let me hear you speak of it, even a whisper, do you understand? Do you have any idea what word of this could do to my career, if my own wife-"

"Your career?" she shrieked, incredulous. "What does that matter, compared to-" She stopped suddenly, and took a step back, a lance of fear driving through her. She'd never thought her husband would strike her, but the look in his eye, the clenching of his fists, said otherwise. Her grandmother's advice returned to her, and she realized that the old woman, whom she had thought was so blind, had seen her husband with clearer eyes than anyone else. Swallowing, she forced the words out. "I'm sorry, beloved. You're right, of course. The Emperor stopped the war, and anything was worth that price. I will… I will put it from my mind."

He relaxed minutely, and nodded. "I don't wish to berate you, wife. But word of this…"

His voice was so formal! "I understand." She smiled, and it was the smile of her mask, the first time she'd ever worn that mask in private. It had been used many times before, in social events, but never when she was alone with him. Until that moment.

She remembered the awareness, as he embraced her with arms as unforgiving as durasteel, that she would be wearing the mask often in his presence from then on, and the thought had made her cringe inside. That, she now realized, had been the very moment that the change had begun. The seed was planted and the snaking weeds grew quickly, and their love was from that point on marred by reality and truth. She wished for an instant – as she often did - that she could have lived on in ignorance, that her grandmother had never brought the light to her eyes.

But who, then, would spread the truth?

"It's amazing, really, how well he's done, wouldn't you say?" Sera looked at her expectantly.

Natrie blinked and then nodded. She really needed to be more careful at these functions, but the others never seemed to notice if she was paying attention, so long as they had a captive audience. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Natrie paid attention to Sera for another couple of minutes, her guilt at completely missing the woman's earnest attempt at ingratiation driving her to listen closely. However, she couldn't maintain the façade for long, and soon pretended to see her husband waving to her. "I'm so sorry, but my husband-"

"Oh! Don't even mention it; I've taken up too much of your time already. Perhaps we could visit outside of these functions sometime?" 

Natrie made a noncommittal noise and took the small datacard that was offered to her. Then, with a polite nod, she backed into the crowd, letting it swallow her. After a few minutes of circling the room and avoiding anyone who eyed her with interest, she was able to escape to the balcony area. It was empty, which pleased her, and she drew in a deep breath, enjoying the cool air in her nose and throat. One of the problems with these social events was her tendency to drift into memory and contemplation – too many things reminded her of her past and the slippery slope that had led her here, to this place, and there were too few things to distract her thoughts from that path.

Silently, she moved to the balcony's edge and stared out at the surrounding buildings. It was unlikely that any would venture out to the balcony until later in the evening, when the aurora would be visible over the neighboring buildings – there was far too much maneuvering to be done inside – but she still made certain to stick to the shadows. It wouldn't do if she was accosted out here, where there was no way to pretend her husband was waving her over so that she could escape another tedious chat. The sound of conversation was a steady hum in the background, and she noted that when the dozens of irritating voices were blended together, it was much more tolerable. Soothing, even.

The hum faded and other conversations came to her ears as she moved along the railing, away from the doorway. The railing was cool and smooth to the touch as she slid her hand along it, and finally, when she reached the farthest point, she stopped and leaned against the glassy stone, looking down at the balconies below. Most were empty, their occupants attending one function or another, but one was lit and she admired the elegant fixtures. Made of the same dark, shiny stone that formed the balcony railings, they put out a very soft light, and she considered whether she ought to purchase some for their own home – they were much better than the harsh lights that her husband had procured-

Then she overheard something, something that made her freeze.

"You should come. We can use more people, more supporters. Palpatine is strong."

Palpatine? In wonder, she shifted all of her attention to the overheard conversation. Few spoke the Emperor's true name anymore, and none spoke it without the honorific title prefacing it.

A deeper voice answered the first. "So we are meeting, then? It's real?"

"It's real. Not everyone believes the lies. Not everyone has forsaken the truth."

The voices sounded as if they were coming from the lit balcony, but she couldn't see anyone there. She leaned farther over the railing, her eyes searching the darkness. Finally, she was able to make out two shadows on the far end of the other balcony, outside of the circle of soft light spread by the fixtures she'd been admiring.

"But, what if we're found-"

"We won't be." 

"How-"

"Don't worry. We have some people on the inside… but we need more for a successful rebellion."

_Rebellion?_

"On the inside? And you trust…" The man's voice stopped, and she squinted into the night, straining to see what was happening. One shadow appeared to show the other something – a datapad, perhaps? – and then the object was hidden once again beneath the shadow's cloak. The deep voice came again, no longer hesitant. "I'll be there."

"Of course you will." A glow from a smokestick lit the air, and she was doubly intrigued. Smokesticks were rare and expensive, these days, since the planet that produced the herbs was resisting Imperial rule. "You see through the lies."

"I do. It took some time, but I do now." The two men gave their farewells, then turned to go in different directions. As one moved into the artificial light from the balcony fixtures, he turned around suddenly, before she could move away from the railing. She wasn't certain if he would be able to see her, standing as she was in the shadows, but it seemed as if their eyes locked for a split second before his gaze shifted away. He searched the other balconies for a moment then, apparently satisfied, tossed the smokestick to the floor. He ground it under his heel and then, with one last glance around, continued on his way.

She backed away from the railing, hearing again and again the final words from the two men. It seemed as if they had read her mind, had known exactly what she had been thinking about before they appeared. How could such a coincidence occur? Then again, was it really a coincidence? It was something that remained on her mind day and night, forcing her to don that mask in her husband's presence to protect against letting him know her true thoughts. To keep herself from revealing that she knew the lies for what they were.

"I do," she whispered. "It took some time, but I do now."


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her wonderful beta job! And many, many thanks to everyone reading and reviewing – each one is definitely appreciated. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**The Dutiful Wife**

WendyNat

Chapter Two  
--------------  
A couple of months later, Natrie stood out on the balcony of her home, staring at the light fixtures with exasperation. She had searched for ones like those she'd seen that night, the night that wouldn't leave her memory, but could find nothing of the sort. Well, that wasn't entirely true: she'd found similar items, but nothing exact. And she had the urge to match them _exactly_.

It wasn't as if she could match anything else she'd seen or heard on that balcony. A rebellion… her heart yearned to know more, to find out about those two men, but she couldn't come up with a way to do so. They consumed her thoughts, those memories of the overheard conversation, the image of the smokestick being lit by a shadowy figure, the face that had entered the light for a short time; there was little else to occupy her mind, after all. She sighed, leaning against the railing, watching the speeders and transports pass by.

Then, her husband's voice interrupted her musings. "Natrie? Oh, here you are. I added a few things to the grocer's list. You might want to go ahead and enter it – we're out of some things."

"Yes, of course." 'Some things' meaning things _he_ wanted, she thought sourly, looking out at the city one more time before heading back to the great room to start on yet another mindless task that took far longer than it ought.

She rubbed her forehead, thinking rather unflattering thoughts about her husband as she took a seat at the small silver-toned desk. The grocery list each week seemed to grow, and he was specific about the brands of items she should purchase, which required her to scroll through long lists on the main communication system's screen. The metal desktop was cold on her forearms as she leaned on it, and with a sigh she lifted one hand to start the ordering sequence, bypassing the 'general choices' selection with regret.

As always, the everyday motions of the mindless tasks she must perform – a wife's duty – seemed to bring the memories on – while she sat in front of the bright glow of the comm system's viewscreen, punching in the order for their groceries and scrolling through 'new and fabulous brands', her mind replayed the image of the smokestick's glow, surrounded by darkness. Every week there was more to scroll through. The sweetcakes list, in particular, had grown long, and she sighed as she pressed the scroll button over and over again.

"Sweetcakes?" her husband said as he passed through the room. Mierie had requested his assistance with her homework, and he hadn't even stopped to change his clothing. He did pause long enough to give her a peck on the cheek, though, and she bit back a sigh.

"Mierie likes them," she murmured, her eyes seeing the different brands scroll by while her mind watched – and listened to – something else entirely. A smokestick was lit, the deep voice of a shadowy man agreed to meet someone organizing, or assisting in organizing, a rebellion. He saw through the lies, as did the man organizing it. As did she. However, the man that now stood behind her, squeezing her shoulders affectionately as he watched her go about her tasks, saw nothing – not even his own wife's loathing. How could he be so blind?

"You always pay such close attention to us both," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her cheek again. "You should get something you like, too."

"I will, love." She paused in her scrolling and turned, smiling up at him. _Just **leave**. I'd like that best of all._

"Unfortunately, my other beautiful young woman is waiting for me, so I'm afraid I've got to depart for now." He touched her cheek, and she nodded, softening her smile into what she hoped was an affectionate expression as he turned and walked from the room.

_Thank goodness._ Once he'd gone, she turned back to the screen, scrolling through two more pages before finding the sweetcake brand Mierie preferred. Mierie had become more selective in her tastes as she grew older, rather than more open to new foodstuffs, as her mother had predicted. Yet one more thing that her mother had predicted wrong, she mused as she scrolled through the fruit assortment. There had also been some nonsense about openness and honesty being critical in any marriage; had she been open or honest with her husband, the results would certainly not have been a more solid union. Of course, her mother had meant any _successful_ marriage, so that nonsense might actually have some basis in fact. Just not for Natrie. She sighed, punching in her selections for the next week, only half hearing her husband speak with Mierie about her homework.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on the view, she had a good amount of experience in hiding her true thoughts, and so her distraction over the past months had gone unnoticed by her husband. It was rote, now, to put on that mask every morning, to bid her husband farewell and wish him luck for the day, to feign disappointment when he would be late returning home or was sent on assignment to another system. Those were some of her favorite nights, when he was held up with work, and she and Mierie could relax and speak freely. And, after Mierie was in bed, she could relax and think freely without worrying about maintaining her mask. 

Her memories continued to trouble her, but her daughter brought her joy, and when her husband was gone they often sat up late into the night, discussing various subjects. Frequently, conversation turned to the Jedi and their history, and the many facets that could exist of the truth. Mierie was bright, and very perceptive, and so Natrie did not fear that she would upset her father with such topics. Still, she reminded her daughter to only speak of these subjects with Natrie, and not with her father or her instructors.

With a sigh, she sat back and stretched. Preparing the week's grocery order was a necessary task, but it was boring, and frustrating when the merchant kept adding new brands to an already-long list. And, each week, it seemed the Empire's taxes rose. They were exempt, of course, being the family of an Imperial officer, but she noted it with a twist in her stomach every time she ordered items over the systems. How did other people make do?

She shook her head, catching a bit of conversation between father and daughter. They were discussing political history, always a tricky subject for Natrie. She worried, sometimes, that Mierie may accidentally let something slip. To protect her daughter – and herself – if such a slip occurred, Natrie made a point to stress that there were many interpretations to any event, and that the history Natrie relayed was just one of them. If the situation did arise, either at home or in her classes, Natrie believed she could explain away any indiscretions as a lesson in philosophy, and not as treason.

Yes, she loved it when her husband was sent away, and those times would be a complete enjoyment if not for the sadness that hung over her daughter. Mierie missed him, for she loved her father, and that was his one saving grace in Natrie's eyes. The two doted on each other, and in his daughter's presence he showed a facet of personality that, if not for his rigidness and consuming ambition on all other occasions, could have brought Natrie to _love_ once again. He loved his daughter, and she him, but Natrie wondered, late in the night, whether even that would be enough to sway him if he ever had to choose between his family and his ambitions.

The fact that she could even wonder such a thing, much less suspect that his ambitions would win out in that contest, solidified her feelings towards him. She rose and walked to the entranceway, standing back out of sight as she watched the two figures bent over a datapad, Mierie in sleepwear and her husband still in his crisp uniform.

His life, his very being, depended so much on his career and rank that it frightened her, once she came to recognize it. When she forgot herself and questioned the Emperor's methods, or wondered at the true path the galaxy was taking, his expression froze, a steel door slamming shut, and he would snap or – even worse - just watch her with that dangerous stare that made her wish, above all else, to be far from him and his anger. She had thought to leave him, had thought it time and again since that night when love first began the downward spiral into hate, but she knew it would be folly. The few women who dared to leave husbands of rank did not survive long, but she would have risked it, if not for her daughter.

A few months after she had first heard the word 'rebellion' uttered with conviction and meaning, her husband was sent away again – this time for three days. She had bid him farewell that very morning, and as evening fell, she began to relax in earnest after verifying that the transport shuttle carrying her husband had indeed reached the Star Destroyer.

After dinner, during which Mierie woefully mentioned – only twice, this time - how it was too bad there were no sweetcakes, they settled in Mierie's bedroom to watch some HoloNet programs.

Natrie leaned back in the small armchair beside the bed, smiling as she looked at the walls and curtains, a light sea-foam edged with cream. When she'd passed her first decade, Mierie had determined that she was too old for frills and lace, and her father had immediately taken her to choose a new, more fitting, decoration for her bedroom. The furniture was simple but eye-catching, with deeply grained wood shaped into crisp, clean lines. Each piece was handmade on one of the heavily-forested planets near the Outer Rim, and they were all quite pricey. Her husband spared no expense when it came to his daughter… or her status. When friends came to visit, he maintained, they would note the elegant furnishings and see the awards on the wall, and know that she was not only from a prosperous family but also talented in her own right.

Once the HoloNet program ended, she drew her attention back to her daughter. Mierie sat on her bed, staring at the now-empty projector pad. It had been a history program, one of the many that catalogued the Emperor's rise to power after the Jedi's "betrayal." Her daughter was silent, which was unusual; generally, her mouth moved so quickly that Natrie could hardly keep up.

"What is it, Mierie?"

"Mom, why would the Emperor claim the Jedi tried to assassinate him? That would've been against their Code and a lot different from everything they've done before." Mierie was always interested in patterns, and she'd found history and politics engrossing since she was a young child. It was unusual to see in someone so young, and Natrie was relieved that her daughter was able to analyze events objectively but still with compassion. Mierie frowned and, before Natrie could answer her question, she stated, "It's got to be a lie."

Natrie sighed and shifted her gaze to the window. "Power affects men in different ways, sweetling. Some rise to the occasion and prove their worth, paying back the ones who helped put them in power by being the best ruler they can be. Others just want more and more power, and don't care what they have to do to get it." The explanation was simple, perhaps too simple, and Natrie knew the time would come when Mierie would recognize her father as belonging to the latter group. Natrie didn't, in all honesty, have any idea how she would respond when that time came.

"So the Jedi, they were like the first type, and the Emperor is more the second type," Mierie said, propping her chin on her knees. "I don't like him."

"I don't either, sweetling, but don't let anyone hear you say that."

"I know." Mierie looked down her nose at the coverlet, and sighed. "Tomorrow night, can we watch some of those old HoloNet recordings that great-grandmother left?"

"If your father hasn't returned by then, yes," Natrie said. Though she expected her husband to be gone for three days, these special meetings sometimes finished sooner, depending on the topic. Also, as he'd said before leaving, depending on whether or not an Admiral or other high-level officer was in attendance. There had been meetings that dragged on for days – caught in debate - until a high-ranking officer joined them. Natrie could remember how surprised she'd been when he first began to tell her the details of those meetings, late in the evening after Mierie was in bed; it was fascinating, and her unfeigned interest had spurred him to tell her more of what happened behind those closed doors. "Now, Mierie, please remember not to mention these things, if it comes up in your class gatherings-"

"Mo-_ther_." Mierie shook her head, lips pursed, and the gesture was so like Natrie's own that she had to suppress a laugh. "I _know_. It would only hurt Father's career, and no one else would understand, and it could bring the Emperor's wrath on our family."

"It's nice to hear that you do listen, on occasion." Natrie raised an eyebrow. "Not like yesterday, when I told you to come straight home and you took a small detour by your friend's house instead."

Mierie's eyes widened. "How did you- I mean, um… I didn't go anywhere."

Now Natrie did frown. "Don't try to lie, Mierie. There are more eyes around than you'd expect, and you'd best remember that."

"And ears."

"And ears, yes. Don't lie to me. Don't _ever_ lie to me."

"But you tell me to lie to Father."

Natrie bit back her initial response and took a few calming breaths. "I know." How to explain? "There are things… things called white lies, sweetling. It would only hurt your father, if he heard you speak of another truth-"

"But it's the _real_ truth." Mierie held up her hands, once again over dramatizing the gesture, as young people often did. "I know, Mom. He doesn't care about what's real, only what the Emperor says."

Natrie froze. She opened her mouth, intent on smoothing that view of her husband, but she stopped at the clear gaze from Mierie. _Don't lie to me, I said. Then I can't lie to her. Not about this,_ she realized. _Especially since she already knows._

"That's true, love. Some people… some people aren't as concerned about the real truth, and they only want to see what they're comfortable with." Natrie watched her daughter intently, then added, "Though, you know, it _is_ true that your father is safer, not questioning anything the Emperor says."

"I know. That's why I won't say anything."

"Thank you, sweetling." She patted her daughter on the shoulder, then stood. "Now, you should get some sleep. Tomorrow is another class day."

"Okay, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, too."

It wasn't until she was back in her own bedroom that she realized how deftly Mierie had switched the flow of conversation away from her transgression of the previous day. Natrie knew she ought to be irritated, but instead a feeling of pride threaded through her at the realization. She was, indeed, her mother's daughter.

Her husband returned the following night, and so the viewing of the old HoloNet recordings had to be put off until another of his trips. Some things, however, could not be pushed aside so easily. Upon his return, he gave her news she dreaded to hear.

"_Another_ large function?" Her surprise was genuine, as was her displeasure; there was usually a little more time between these events. The smaller social gatherings were somewhat bearable, if only because they didn't last as long, but for an event such as the one her husband was describing… she foresaw hours of boredom and cramped facial muscles in her future.

"Natrie, I know you don't like these functions, but we'll be invited to more and more, as time goes on. I'm being given more responsibility, and one of the Admirals is returning here to the Imperial Center."

She turned away from the closet, scowling. "But why can't you just-"

"It is _final_. A man in my position-" As he spoke, each word grew more and more clipped, and she knew she had to stop it before the frozen tirade began in earnest.

"I know. I'm… I'm sorry, darling." The endearment tasted like bitter ice in her throat, but she still smiled. Anything to force that tight, irritated expression from her husband's face. It was inevitable, after all. She had to go, and they both knew it; resisting would simply make everyone miserable. "I'll just make sure the sitter can stay with Mierie for the evening."

As quick as a dragonsnake's strike, his entire demeanor changed. She watched him in wonder - it still awed her, how he could switch from one mood to the next in the blink of an eye. Each emotion was as true as the other; he did not falsify these moods, and that's what surprised her the most. He raised his hand, and stroked her cheek, and his smile would have seemed warmer to her had she not just experienced the chill of his displeasure. "You're too good to me, Natrie."

One week after that conversation, she stood, once more, in the middle of a crowd. This time the room was laid out like a giant auditorium, with cleverly placed tables creating more intimate spaces for conversation. Nevertheless, everything else was the same – simpering wives in fancy dresses, trying to work their wiles on one another, hoping to gather some sort of inside information to assist their husbands; men in sharp gray suits milling about, pretending to laugh at jokes from superiors, or feigning interest in the concerns of underlings. And then there was Natrie.

It had been going on for two hours already, and she was ready to be out of her uncomfortable shoes. However, she was grateful that, for once, her husband had listened when she complained about the straps of the previous dress. He'd ordered this one too, of course - a deep, rich blue made from some thick fabric that she couldn't identify. If it had been up to her, she would have saved the credits and worn one of the other dresses that still hung in her wardrobe, but he insisted.

She sighed and took a sip of her drink before remembering that it was that sickly sweet concoction that Sera enjoyed. The young woman caught her early in the evening and pressed a drink into her hand before she could gracefully decline, and so she had been stuck, sipping at the drink, listening to the updates on Sera's husband.

This time, however, Sera had insisted on not monopolizing Natrie's time, and had moved on when the wife of a higher-ranking officer passed by them. She had never been so thankful for the appearance of a higher-ranking wife before, she thought, sipping the drink again by accident. When a server passed by, she smiled and stopped him, taking one of the flutes of light wines and leaving him with the remains of the syrupy drink. He looked shocked when she actually spoke to him, and she once again seethed inside at the way the serving people were treated. _These gray suits and stuck-up women can't bother themselves to even speak to someone that can't help them in their careers. How did I end up a part of this?_

She knew the answer, of course. It had only taken a few ingredients to create this recipe for her life's disaster: youth, love, stubbornness… and the Empire. Sighing, she moved to the side of the room, skillfully avoiding two young women who appeared intent on speaking with her. From the edge of the room, she watched the colorful dresses moving about, their faces blurring together into one identical mask. A mask that she, herself, wore – though she got no joy from it. She considered them silently, wondering how they could go through life not even _questioning_ the things that happened around them. Of course, she pretended to do the same. Perhaps some of these others were like her…

"Finally, someone that looks as bored of all of this as I feel."

In surprise, Natrie turned. At her side was a handsome woman in her middle years, dark hair streaked lightly with the brightest white Natrie had ever seen. She wore a bold red, and Natrie had to admit that it quite suited her strong features.

"Well, I don't know that I would say bored, exactly-"

"Oh, don't bother pretending. I've been watching you, my dear. You're above all of this," the woman said, waving her crystal glass in a wide arc. "I could tell from across that room."

"I don't know that I would say _above_ it." Natrie glanced around and took a sip of her drink. "Beside it, perhaps."

"Not a part of it."

"Yes, exactly. I just-"

"You just _can't_. I understand completely, my dear." The other woman raised an eyebrow and waved her glass in the direction of the room. "I just _can't_, either. I detest these things."

Natrie smiled, her second sincere smile of the evening. "Really? That's such a good thing to hear, I can't even explain. I always thought I was the only one, or it seemed that way, at least. It would be all right, actually, if not for all the…"

"Opportunists?"

"Yes… opportunists, sycophants." Natrie's lips twisted, and she hid her grimace by taking a sip of the colorful liquid. "Most of them mean well enough, I suppose-"

"If you consider ambition and desperate attempts to gain favor by talking a poor woman to death to be 'meaning well enough,' you'd be right." The old woman eyed her closely. "I, however, think they are just self-serving… droids, for lack of a better word."

Natrie laughed aloud at that. "Droids only? Oh, no, I'd say they were at least clones."

"No, no. Self preservation, that's all a droid cares about, and that's all these droids care about. See, that one over there? She's just recognized me. Notice how she's looking this way, trying to decide what we might be talking about, and how it could affect her own husband's career." Natrie followed the woman's pointed gaze and smiled slightly. It was Sera. 

"She's young, yet. Newlywed. She'll tire of the game eventually."

"Perhaps. Most never do, though."

Natrie chuckled. "I was tired of it the very first gathering. I decided then and there that my husband's career would progress, or not, without my maneuverings."

"And that's what I liked about you – I could sense that, that quiet confidence." Natrie tilted her head as the other woman spoke. In all the years she'd attended these functions, she'd never heard any of the other wives speak like this before; it was a welcome surprise, but also a bit disconcerting. "It's an aura that some of us have. You were meant to be an admiral's wife, my dear. These others, they can sense that. It's a threat."

"They don't seem too threatened most of the time." She wished they were; it would save her from those tension headaches caused by maintaining that fake smile.

"Ah, but watch them now!" The older woman scanned the room, then glanced back at Natrie with a twinkle in her eye. "We can help each other, I think. You stay with me, and they'll be too intimidated to approach. They'll never dare interrupt my conversations. But the entire time, they'll wonder at the game we're playing. What am I talking to you about? How did you dare to speak to me at all, much less smile and laugh?"

"Dare to speak to you? Are you that frightening, then?" People near the door began to mill around more than normal, and Natrie looked across the room in curiosity. She couldn't make anything out, though.

The older woman's eyes crinkled as she glanced at Natrie. "To some." Nodding in the direction of a fuschia-bedecked woman, she raised an eyebrow. "Look at that one. See how her husband approaches, whispers in her ear, a warning. Everywhere, they're doing it. My husband has made his appearance."

A slight chill went down Natrie's spine – a chill of caution. "Your… husband? Madam, may I ask-"

"You may."

"I probably shouldn't be talking to you, should I?"

The woman lifted an eyebrow, her lips twitching. "I'm certain not."

Natrie sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"And yet here we are," the old woman smiled. "Having the most sincere discussion in this room."

"I imagine you're right." She noticed the bustling of the room, again, and wondered just who this woman's husband was. She saw her own husband in the mix, and he cast a glance in her direction, his expression freezing when he saw who she stood with. _Who is this woman?_ Taking another sip of the drink, she breathed in deeply and asked, "Just how bad of a breach of etiquette is this, then?"

"Oh, none at all. The Admiral's wife creates her own etiquette, wouldn't you say?"

Natrie closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. A breach of etiquette didn't even cover this event. The difference in rank between their husbands was immeasurable, and the social rules were unstated but clear: someone of her level would not speak at length with an Admiral's wife. A polite hello, perhaps. A smile and a bow. Not a conversation. But Natrie found that she didn't _care_. This was the first time in a long while that she'd actually enjoyed speaking with someone at one of these interminable events.

"I'd have to agree, Madam. The Admiral's wife likely sets her own etiquette." The other woman smiled slightly.

"Call me Trienne."

"Thank you, Trienne. I'm Natrie." She caught someone staring at her from the corner of her eye, and turned in the direction of the yellow blur. The woman quickly looked the other way, feigning interest in the wall decorations.

Trienne laughed softly. "They fear me. And now they'll fear you." 

"It won't keep them from cloistering around me." Natrie caught another woman staring out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't turn, this time. "Maybe even more, now."

"Perhaps. Unless I'm around, running resistance. Now that we've been officially reassigned to this location, I think I'll be seeking you out at these gatherings as often as I can. If nothing else, it'll keep the - let's just call them what they are, and say boot-lickers – away from us both."

Natrie couldn't hold back a laugh at that and the other woman smiled broadly, leaning close. "Look there, you see that one? In that dreadful light blue that does nothing but wash her out? Her husband is a level below mine, and since we returned to the Imperial Center, she's bothered me unmercifully with stories of her society dinners – ones that I always miss – but she even doesn't realize that it's hopeless. He'll always be second in command." Trienne pursed her lips, shaking her head. "He sends her out to do it. I'll tell you this, if a man is so unsure of his own abilities to lead that he sends his wife on social functions to curry favor, then he is not fit for the upper ranks."

Natrie nodded. "I couldn't agree more. It's one reason why I refuse to play that game."

"I could tell that by talking to you, my dear. He's a lucky man, indeed."

"Thank you." Natrie didn't mention that her husband had often tried to encourage her to mingle and socialize more with the other wives, but she'd resisted. It was one thing she had stood firm on, even as a newlywed. 

"So. Which is he?"

Natrie pointed him out, and the older woman nodded, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Lieutenant Commander. At his age, that's quite respectable." Trienne studied him critically for a few more moments, then said, "Your young man will go far. He seems sure in his own skin."

"Too sure, sometimes," Natire muttered, then realized what she'd said. But, thankfully, the other woman laughed.

"Well, now, we do have to keep them on a tight reign, don't we?" She smiled. "What is our job, if not that?"

_What is our job, indeed,_ Natrie thought with a small sigh. Then the conversation moved to other topics, and as the hours passed, Trienne's predictions were proven correct: for the rest of the night, none dared approach them, and Natrie found that the evening flew by. In fact, it was the first time at one of these events that her husband had to signal his readiness to leave to her, rather than the other way around. She was surprised that he didn't approach, but it slipped her mind as she turned to Trienne.

"And there he is waving me to come along. I have to thank you, Trienne. Normally these functions are unbearable, but I've had a wonderful time tonight."

"It's been thoroughly enjoyable, my dear. I'm looking forward to seeing you at the next boot-lickers' convention," Trienne announced, and Natrie laughed. "Now, run along, don't keep a man waiting for _too_ long." Trienne winked. Smiling quickly, Natrie nodded and then left to join her husband, a bit taken aback by his tight expression.

She couldn't determine why he was so stiff with her as they headed home. The small transport pilot stared at her in shock and shook his head when she offered him a tip, and though she hadn't expected him to take it, she still sighed. She wasn't certain she liked being one of those that everyone else feared, but there was little she could do about it. Trienne's comments from the evening ran through her mind, and she smiled slightly. Perhaps being feared wouldn't be a terrible thing, if it kept the simpering opportunists away.

When they were in their bedroom, after checking on Mierie and thanking the sitter, she stared at her husband's back as he unbuttoned his uniform. The stiffness hadn't receded; in fact, it increased when they found themselves alone, and she sighed inwardly.

"Beloved, what's bothering you?"

"I am unable to decide," he said tightly, pulling off his uniform with sharp jerks, "if you are purposefully trying to undermine my career, or if you are just too _simple_ to understand the normal chain of command. Imagine my surprise when I saw you speaking to the Admiral's wife. I can't believe you approached her, and then to monopolize her time the entire evening! You should know what a breach of-"

_Too simple?_

Natrie dared to interrupt him. "I didn't approach her! She came to me!"

He stopped, turned. "She… she came to _you_?" His voice was frankly disbelieving, and it both offended and infuriated her.

Natrie scowled, not even trying to smooth her expression. After putting up with all those sycophants, for all those years, she finally found someone she _enjoyed_ speaking with at one of these functions and he dared to chastise her for it? "You always go on so much about how aloof I am at those dreadful gatherings, but-"

"They are _not_ dreadful-"

"As I was saying," she said, her voice deliberate and increasing in volume with each word. Then she saw her husband's face, really saw it, and cold reality slipped past the heat of anger. She suddenly realized that she was treading too far from shore, from safety, and if she allowed her temper to continue she might let more slip than she intended. Caution, always. Caution.

She scowled again, but this time there was no true anger behind it. Mind racing, she worked on the phrasing even as the words fell from her lips. "The Admiral's wife cited _that_ as the very reason she approached me. She said I was obviously above all the rabble, that she could tell I was confident enough in my husband's abilities not to play fool games to try to help your career."

He looked at his coat, hanging crisp and straight in the closet, and then turned back to face her. "She said that?"

"Yes, she did." And now, the killing blow to his anger. She smiled slightly, forcing a note of pride into her voice as she continued, "Trienne said I was meant to be an admiral's wife. And that – how did she put it? Oh, yes, and that 'that young man of mine will go far'."

She saw the news click into place, saw his expression shift from simmering displeasure to elation – a look she only saw when he heard positive news of his rank, or his work. She sighed as he rushed to her and picked her up, spinning her in a circle. It was a sigh of relief, but he read it differently, and she acquiesced without complaint when he pressed against her with a new sort of fervor; it was far easier to spend a half hour seeing to his pleasure and then have the evening blissfully free while he slept, than to talk her way out of it.

As she lay there beside him some time later, she wondered how she had come to this place, how she had ignored all the subtle warning signs and the not-so-subtle words of her grandmother, those years before. But youth was wise, in its own eyes, and she had already known too much to listen to those older than herself.

---

The next time a function appeared on the social calendar, Natrie didn't balk. She saw that the Admiral's wife would be there once again, and for the first time since she was a starry-eyed newlywed, she was looking forward to the evening. She tried to tell herself that Trienne's presence was the only reason for her lifted spirits, and that the small matter of the function's location – at the same hall where she had overheard that secret conversation about 'rebellion' – had nothing to do with her excitement.

But she knew the truth.

Her husband watched with barely suppressed surprise, and not a little pride, when she rejected two of the gowns that were presented to her for the event. It wasn't often she took notice of what she wore, beyond the comfort level, and it had been a very long time since she'd cared how she looked at one of these events. Mindful of what Trienne had said about light blue, she suggested a deep burgundy – which Mierie seconded - and when it arrived she knew it was the right choice. Bold but tasteful. Confident.

And dark enough that she could linger outside without a shimmer of fabric to give her location away.

---

The gown proved to be the right choice. Soon after they entered the room and took some flutes of Nubian wine – the servers, this time, bore gold-toned trays - her husband became engaged in conversation with one of his senior officers, and she was left free to her own devices.

Sera approached immediately. "Natrie, I love that color on you!"

Natrie smiled, relieved that she'd already secured a flute of wine, and as she did so she wondered how long it would be before the Admiral and his wife appeared. Her cheeks would surely cramp if she was forced to keep this up for long. "Thank you, Sera. And you look stunning." It was the pure truth. The younger woman was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and the soft lavender gown suited her features well. Really, it was a shame – as Trienne stated during the last gathering – that such a pretty package held so little inside.

When Sera suddenly stopped speaking and stammered an excuse to leave, Natrie knew the reason. Turning with a smile, she saw Trienne behind her, and the two women immediately moved to the side of the room to speak more privately.

Natrie had to stifle some of her louder laughs as Trienne made pointed comments about some of the dresses the other women were wearing. It was fun to act like teenagers on occasion, and enjoying the other woman's biting wit was well worth any guilty feelings of immaturity.

"Speaking of unusual clothing, who is that man that's talking with the Admiral?" Natrie took a bite of the small sweetcake, narrowing her eyes as she studied the tall figure next to the Admiral. There was no crisp gray uniform hanging from his slender frame – on the contrary, he wore a rather casual civilian outfit. Well, perhaps not that casual, considering the latest styles, but certainly more casual than she would have expected. Rather than appearing uncomfortable at his lack of formal attire, however, the man was the very air of confidence.

"Charming man – there aren't many that can pull a _sincere_ laugh from my husband's mouth," Trienne said, smiling. Natrie grinned at her. "He's a journalist, actually – a HoloNet reporter. Vrindo Larzin."

"Really? A reporter?" Intrigued, Natrie tilted her head. She was careful not to stare in the same direction for too long, but her gaze continued to scan over the man's back as she waited impatiently for him to turn. Perhaps she would recognize him from some of the broadcasts – Mierie would be excited, if it was one of the reporters that she knew.

Trienne nodded. "Yes. My husband invited him tonight to meet some of the officers. He has it in his head to do a series on the men of the Imperial military – with the Emperor's permission, of course."

"Of course." Natrie frowned. "What sort of series?"

"A profile of certain officers, actually. Something to… how did he put it? Lessen the intimidation factor? It's public relations." The other woman took a long sip of her drink, watching her husband and his companion critically. "The Empire's still young."

"It needs the support of the populace," she murmured.

"Exactly. And he's the best choice to do it – that young man has a deft touch with interviews, not so garrulous as those others that the HoloNet employs. If anyone can humanize this group of gray suits, he can." 

Natrie barely held back a snort, and might have responded with a quip had the man not turned at that very moment and exposed his face to the light. Her heart stopped.

It was him. The man with the smokestick, from the balcony. The overheard words rang in her mind once again – now months later, but no less clear from the passing of time: _It's real. Not everyone believes the lies. Not everyone has forsaken the truth… We have some people on the inside… but we need more for a successful rebellion._

Rebellion. It was _this_ man, then, this very man…

She was overcome with the urge to speak to him, to meet him, but she knew it would be impossible. He couldn't approach her, not at an event such as this, and she certainly couldn't approach him. But perhaps… thinking quickly, she took a sip of her drink, trying to formulate the correct phrasing.

When she lowered her drink, she turned to Trienne and said, in a casual tone, "If he wants to see the more personal, human side of the officers, perhaps he should interview the wives, not the gray suits." _One wife in particular_, she added silently.

Trienne eyed her speculatively. After a few moments, the other woman nodded. "It's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. Come along, let's suggest that to the Admiral."

"Oh, I don't think-"

"Nonsense! It's a perfect idea, and even if it wasn't, I'm not letting you go. One of these empty-headed arm accessories will swoop in immediately and start bowing and scraping and offering me drinks like some ridiculous protocol droid."

Natrie gave a gasping laugh as she was pulled through the crowd; she was equal parts excited and intimidated – normally rank mattered nothing to her, but this was the Admiral, and she could feel all eyes in the room on her as they headed to his position.

"So sorry to interrupt-" Trienne began, but the Admiral cut her off.

"Of course you aren't!" The Admiral turned, smiling, and Natrie was struck by how genuine that smile was. He looked at his wife and she looked back at him, the air of affection between them palpable. And, for the first time in many years, Natrie felt true envy.

"You know me too well, my love." Trienne wove an arm around the Admiral's elbow and nodded towards Natrie. "I thought an interruption would be in order. My friend here had the most wonderful idea." She turned to the reporter, one eyebrow lifted. "One I think you might be relieved to hear."

Vrindo Larzin then shifted his attention from the Admiral to Natrie, and his stare hit her like a blow to the stomach. A flash of recognition crossed his face, mingled with surprise, and she froze when he said, "Ah, yes. Natrie, isn't it? Wife of Lieutenant Commander-"

"Oh, you know each other?" Trienne asked, looking from Vrindo to Natrie.

"I don't think-"

"Not officially, Madam-"

Trienne shook her head and reached out, touching his arm. "I believe I told you to call me Trienne."

Vrindo smiled, and thankfully his gaze shifted away from Natrie. "Not officially, _Trienne_. But I've followed her husband's career, you might say." Natrie relaxed, then. Of course he didn't recognize her from that night – she had been in shadow, and far from his location on the other balcony.

The Admiral spoke, then. "As pleasant as this is – I'm curious to hear what idea you had, Natrie."

"Yes, Admiral." Natrie took a sip of her drink, but her throat still felt dry when she continued, "Your wife was telling me what you and Mr. Larzin was hoping to accomplish with the HoloNet series." The Admiral nodded encouragingly. "Well, if you want to show a personal, more human side of the officers, perhaps you may want to have some interviews with the wives, also."

"Or even have them as the primary focus," Trienne said.

Vrindo sent Natrie a measuring look and then nodded slowly, glancing at the Admiral. "It has merit, and it would certainly make my task a great deal simpler. If the Admiral is open to the idea, of course."

The Admiral looked at his wife and then Natrie. Eventually, he said, "It's a good idea. Do it."

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll begin planning for that, then." Vrindo bowed to the Admiral, then turned to Trienne and took her hand. "Until next time, Trienne."

"Don't make it too long, Vrindo. I'll be interested to see how all of this turns out."

He smiled and nodded, then took Natrie's hand. She almost jumped at the feel of his fingers, warm and smooth and strong, and then chastised herself for acting like a teenager. Chuckling over fashion was one thing, but this…. Her self-lecture was interrupted when Vrindo spoke. "You will, of course, agree to be the first interview?" 

"You mean the first victim?" she asked, smiling.

"You catch on quickly." And, with that, the tall man left the hall.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to my beta reader, Buttercup!

I hope everyone enjoys the chapter, and as always, thanks to everyone for the feedback! It's always appreciated :).

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter Three  
------------------  
A few days later, Natrie found herself in her daughter's bedroom, clearing up in preparation for Vrindo's arrival that day. With a sigh, she bent down to pick up another of Mierie's socks from the floor. The girl just would _not_ put her clothes in the laundry chute where they belonged. After a day of classes, Mierie's room often looked a disaster, clothes and datapads and other items strewn across the room. Normally Natrie picked up in the evening – or forced Mierie to - but she'd been distracted the previous night by conversation with her husband.

"It's like she walks into her room and explodes," Natrie muttered as she bent down to pick up a green cloak that had somehow found its way under the desk. Normally she would be more frustrated by the terrible state of the room, but this time it was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

What had she been thinking, inviting him to come to their home for the interview? For that matter, _what_ had she been thinking, inviting him to interview her at all? 

Curiosity about the Rebellion, of course, was the main reason; however, it certainly wasn't a subject that would come up in casual conversation. He'd be the one asking questions, not her. Even so, just being in the same room as a man who also saw the truth would be a welcome relief. One who wasn't so blinded by his ambition that he ignored the deaths of children, brushed it aside as if it was nothing.

Her husband's voice floated from the door and, as always, she froze when she saw the long shadow fall across the opposite wall. "Remember, keep things light, but watch how much you say. He might-"

"Darling, aren't you late for duty?" Natrie clenched her teeth into a semblance of a smile and her husband sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm never late, Natrie. You know that." He frowned slightly. "Are you sure you can handle-"

"Yes. I can. And even if I couldn't, you've been coaching me on what to say for three days now." Her voice had more bite than she'd intended, and her husband blinked. 

"Now, Natrie-"

"It's fine, darling. I'm just a little on edge." _I'd be much better if you'd just leave._ "Why don't you go on ahead to your duty station? I'll be fine; I know what to say, and I can handle any twisty questions he throws out. I won't embarrass you, don't worry."

Her husband's expression softened and she counted in her head, knowing the normal routine. Like an automaton, he did as programmed. It had taken her years to realize that his response never varied, years until she simply didn't _care_, and that was when she noticed the unwavering pattern of his responses; no longer clouded by emotion and _wanting_, she saw it clearly. His anger was the only thing that was unpredictable, and so she tried to avoid angering him. 

_One, two, three… yes._ On cue, he moved to her - three short steps, a heavy exhalation of regret for his words, arms sliding around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her cheek pressed against the bars of rank on his coat and, as expected, she wrapped her own arms around him, recalling a time - long ago - when she had loved him. "I know you won't embarrass me, Natrie. I trust you completely."

---

After her husband left, she made her way through the house, viewing each room objectively to try to decide how it would look through an outsider's eyes. They didn't often have guests over; she'd avoided socializing with the other wives outside of those dreadful functions, and even when they did have guests over, she'd never worried overmuch how the house had looked. She'd never before been so worried about making a good impression.

A smokestick glowed in her mind, and a voice – Vrindo Larzin's voice – spoke of a Rebellion. Over and again, the memory played, giving her no rest.

Natrie adjusted the table linens once more, and then cursed under her breath. As if Vrindo would care about how straight the table linens were! But her husband had insisted that everything be perfect, that everything be just so, and if Vrindo captured any holovids of their home she knew it needed to follow her husband's directions.

She set some Endorian bark tea to brew on the warming pad and, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out one container of spiced wine and placed it in the chiller. Some men weren't partial to tea, and if it wasn't used that afternoon she could always serve it at dinner that evening.

The door tone went off just as she was positioning the tea and cups on the low table in the sitting area. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and pressed the panel. It slid open to reveal the man that had haunted her memory for months.

"Mr. Larzin, welcome." Behind him, she could see a dark blue speeder on the landing pad. 

"Vrindo, please, Madam-"

"Natrie," she interrupted.

His eyes crinkled, a teasing expression, and he gave her a short bow. "Madam Natrie."

"You know that's not what I meant!" Natrie shook her head, but his antics had lessened her nervousness and she didn't have to force the wide smile that grew on her face. "Come in, Vrindo."

She led the way to the sitting area, settling in her favorite chair while he took the couch. The tea was served, and then they both sat back, staring at each other. To her surprise, he didn't speak. She felt like an insect under a close-viewer, one being studied by a cool-headed researcher.

"So." Natrie shifted, more uncomfortable than she thought she'd be now that they were seated. Weren't reporters supposed to calm their subjects down, not stare at them until they squirmed?

"So." Vrindo took a sip of the hot bark tea and nodded, lifting the cup slightly in appreciation. "A good blend."

"Thank you."

He leaned forward and placed the cup on the table before him. "Now. Let's get down to business."

"All right."

"Tell me about yourself." Sitting back, he pulled out a datapad and tapped at it. "I always like to have some background information, to start off with. It sets the stage, so to speak, for the program."

She frowned, not sure how to respond. He'd recited a bit of her background the last time they met, so she knew he had some knowledge already. "Well, why don't you tell me what you have so far. Then I can maybe fill in any gaps that your research didn't cover?"

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her request. Perhaps it wasn't a usual thing for an interviewee to say? She had no idea; this was all quite beyond her realm of experience.

"Very well. You're right, I did do some research. You are, of course, the wife of a Lieutenant Commander in the Imperial Navy, a man who has risen steadily in the ranks over the past years after starting out as a wide-eyed ensign shortly after the birth of the Empire."

He looked up long enough to see her nod, then his eyes returned to the datapad. "You married him shortly after he completed officer's training, and by all accounts it was a welcome event. Your marriage was supported by your family despite the fact that you were young according to the standards of your home planet."

"Not by all the family," she muttered, thinking of her grandmother. His eyes shot up from the datapad.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Vrindo stared at her for a moment, then nodded and continued, "Your family is well-respected, your mother a native of Gabris Prime and your father from Coruscant. You were born thirty-one standard years ago and spent the first fifteen years of your life on Gabris Prime. After the death of your father in the Clone Wars, most of your family left Gabris Prime to avoid the increasing instability in the outlying regions. As far as family, that's about it." He looked at the datapad. "Oh, no, wait. There's more. Let's not forget that two of your father's brothers were Jedi Knights."

She froze. "Um…"

"But I think we'll leave that part out, shall we?" He looked up, his expression almost mocking.

Throat dry, she nodded. "Yes. I think so."

"You had a daughter almost two years after your marriage-"

"I found out I was pregnant on our first anniversary."

He raised an eyebrow and made a notation on the datapad, then continued, "Everyone was, of course, ecstatic." This time, she schooled her expression to one of casual interest. "Your daughter seems to be very well-adjusted and has received highest marks from most of her tutors and class leaders. Her marks are, in fact, similar to the level yours were in school."

"You've done a lot of homework."

"This is the homework I enjoy - finding the story behind the person." He smiled at her, a genuine smile, and she couldn't help but do the same – the smile, the _real_ smile, transformed an already-handsome face into something quite beyond description. "I wasn't the best at doing my homework in school – that's probably why my marks were nowhere close to either of yours."

She laughed. "Mierie is much better about it than I was. Of course, she has her father standing over her shoulder, making certain she completes everything." Natrie's own father had encouraged her to relax and play more, claiming that too much study was bad for a child.

"His marks weren't as high as yours."

Her smile dimmed. It wasn't something her husband liked to be reminded of, and she hoped Vrindo didn't put anything about that in the program. She looked at him. "You've certainly put a lot of work into this. It must have taken you some effort to gather all this before we met today."

"It's my job."

"Well, you're good at it."

He acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then said, "And that's about all I have. In short, everything's perfect and happy and you're all good Imperial citizens." Again, that mocking smile took over his face.

She took a sip of her tea, covering her expression with the cup. "That's… that's a concise summary." Her life, wrapped as a pretty package with a bow on top; but the container within the wrapping was empty.

Vrindo tapped the datapad on his palm and, tilting his head, he said, "Now, why don't you tell me something a little more 'real'?"

"What… what do you mean?"

He smirked. "Anything that would be of interest to the general public. Paint me a picture of your home life, here. Set the scene. Does he leave his socks around the apartment? Does he snore? Have a soft spot for Corellian candies? What do you argue about? Do you get sick of his job; does he get frustrated that you're sick of his job?"

She snorted, shaking her head. "Do you want the truth, or what the Admiral and the Emperor would want the public to hear?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how much you like that pretty head that's attached to your shoulders."

Suddenly, she stood. "Would you like some wine?"

His right eyebrow quirked and, with a small smile, he nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

She went to retrieve the container of chilled wine, pouring it into a silver pitcher that they'd received as an anniversary gift from her mother a few years before. The methodical motions helped to calm her, and she began to wonder why she'd reacted that way. It had been the perfect opening to start veering the conversation towards the Rebellion. Fear and nervousness and the reality of it had hit her hard, and all at the same time. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the sitting area and poured two glasses of wine, setting the pitcher down on the table.

"Thank you." Vrindo took a sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of the glass. "We'll start with something a little easier, then. Any funny anecdotes while you were courting? Viewers love that type of thing."

In relief, she smiled. "Yes. Some." As she related some of the amusing – but innocuous – stories that her husband had mentioned, she began to relax. He asked question after question, and she finally did answer some of the earlier questions.

"We rarely fight. It's true – there've only been a few occasions…" Her voice trailed off and she took a long swallow of wine before continuing, "Not often. I don't bother."

"You don't bother?"

"Not anymore. I tried, once or twice, but he doesn't want to hear-" She stopped suddenly, remembering that there was a reason she didn't drink often. Peering into her empty glass, she sighed. "He doesn't leave his socks about, either. That's Mierie. He's very, very, _very_ meticulous."

Vrindo drained his own glass and then said, "I can see that about him." 

He reached for the pitcher, fingers brushing it before she took it from him. "No, no. You're the guest; let me serve." He sat back with a small shrug, and she smiled as she lifted the pitcher, noting that he had left fingerprints in the cool condensation.

"There's just one more question, but this might be a long one."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you never tell your husband what you overheard on the balcony that night?"

The pitcher slipped from numb fingers, liquid splashing over the table and streaming over the edge to the floor. It slowed to a mere trickle as she stood and stared at the man, and each drip of the sparkling liquid seemed to mirror the beating of her heart.

"What?" her voice was just a breath. He rose, circling the table to stand in front of her. As they stood there, staring at each other, the pitcher rolled off the table and fell with a loud clatter, metal against marble.

"I know it was you, Natrie. A silver dress is distinctive enough, don't you think? And Captain Decker is a close friend of mine, as well as a neighbor."

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about."

"After seeing you standing there, and having a good idea of what you overheard, I went over to Decker's place and slipped in. It didn't take long to find out who the woman in the silver was."

She swallowed, unsure how to respond. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

"You had a lot to drink that night – an innocent discussion was twisted by the poison of alcohol in your mind." Vrindo's eyes narrowed. "I had the excuse ready, and who would they believe, after all? _You?_" He paused just long enough for her to fidget under his gaze. "But, imagine my surprise when my excuse was never needed. When the good wife of an Imperial officer - a Lieutenant Commander - didn't even breathe a word of it to her husband."

"How do you know I didn't tell him? Maybe I did, and he just-"

"He never told his commanding officer, and the good Lieutenant Commander wouldn't hesitate to do that." Vrindo's right eyebrow quirked. "Would he?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but then let out a breath. What was the point? "You know him well."

"Well enough." He took another step towards her, and she took another half-step back. "And then, of course, I drew the logical conclusion."

"Logical?" 

"A tiny bit of research was all I needed. The logical conclusion was that you, the silver-clad lady on the balcony, were secretly a supporter of the Rebellion. Of the cause."

She just stared at him.

"Was it your father's influence? Both of his brothers were Jedi Knights, and most families were proud to have such men and women to point to and claim, even if they weren't allowed contact."

"Y- yes. My father, he always spoke so highly of them. And then my… my grandmother…"

"Your father's mother?"

"Yes." Natrie shook her head. "After the Emperor came to power, she wanted… but she was old, and ill, and there wasn't anything she could do-"

"There are things _you_ could do, Natrie. Join us."

She watched him, his intensity evident in every movement and word and blink. _Join us._ This couldn't be real. It couldn't. While she longed to say yes, to not hesitate for a second, the logistics of the issue loomed large in her mind. Mierie, her husband…. Joining the Rebellion had been a beautiful daydream, but reality was cold and hard, and did not allow for flights of fancy. "I… I don't think-"

"You must see what's happening to the Galaxy, under his rule. You're beautiful, but that's not all there is to you – you're strong, you have a mind of your own, and I _know_ you can see the truth."

She looked at him, shock playing at the edges of her awareness, though her face showed none of it. Or so she hoped. "Do you often flatter and flirt with women to try to convince them to join your Rebellion?"'

"Would it work? I could flatter you more."

A laugh burst from her before she could stifle it, and with a chuckle, he continued, "Natrie, I'll do anything to help bring the Emperor down, and if flattering a woman who deserves to be flattered is part of that, then I'll gladly do it. I do what I can to spread the truth."

"So do I. I do what I can to spread the truth – I've… I tell Mierie of the Jedi, of the past." She sighed, looking at the HoloNet projector in the corner. "Of the different versions of the truth. She knows."

"That could be dangerous." 

When she shifted her gaze to him, she saw only sincere concern. Smiling, she shook her head. "No, I've told her to take care never to speak of it to anyone else."

He nodded slowly. "Help us, Natrie. Help us fight."

She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted… but she had someone else to think about. Someone else to protect. "I… I can't. Not in the way you mean. I mean, I do fight. In my own way. I'm doing what I can to spread the truth."

"Spread the truth? By telling one little girl about what you know, and begging her not to speak of it to another soul?" He stared at her incredulously.

Natrie bit her lip and looked down, wondering how he'd twisted her around with so little effort. She should have known better than to engage in debate with a journalist.

One finger lifted her chin, then he jerked back, almost as if the touch had burned, but his expression cleared so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it. His eyes were intense on hers when he said, "Think about it."

"It wouldn't be safe. I have to protect my daughter." She was torn, and she knew he saw that far too clearly.

"She'll be protected." This time, his voice was soft, understanding. She looked up at him and saw him staring at her, the oddest expression on his face. Then he seemed to recognize her scrutiny and schooled his features to a more neutral appearance. "Well? _Will_ you think on it?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

He reached out and took one of her hands in his, then bowed over it in a gallant gesture, keeping his eyes on hers through the entire movement. "Thank you."

Unable to speak, she just nodded again, and watched dumbly as he picked up his datapad and let himself out of her home.

---

That evening, Natrie sat in front of her small vanity, combing her hair out and half-listening to the final HoloNet news broadcast of the day. Her husband was, of course, stationed in front of the projector, drinking in everything, hoping for something that could give him an edge over his competitors. His coworkers. His comrades. A topic of conversation with which to impress a superior. Anything.

She winced as she encountered a snarl and set to work untangling it. Dozens of dark brown hairs clung to the comb and she sighed, staring at them. Perhaps she should just cut it all off… but then it'd be even more trouble at those functions, thinking of ways to dress it up. Long was easy, she could put it up or down or twist it into a coil-

Suddenly, the sound of the HoloNet broadcast broke through her ruminations. She spun in her chair, staring at the projector as the broadcaster continued, "…former wife of Commander Neroon, was found today by troopers as she attempted to find illegal passage from the Imperial Center. Unfortunately, the incident ended in tragedy when Suni Neroon and her companion resisted arrest, attacking three of the troopers, and forcing them to fire in self-defense."

The comb dropped from her hand. "That's not possible! That shrinking leaf of a woman would never attack a troop-"

"It's what the official report is, Natrie. It's what happened." Her husband shook his head, and she knew he was sighing inwardly over the wayward wife. Suni Neroon had left her husband, sneaking out in the dead of night after he found that she was sleeping with another man. It was quite a scandal, and Natrie had openly disparaged the young woman while secretly wishing her luck and strength when the subject came up.

"You're always so sure that whatever that official report says is truth," she snapped, picking up the comb from the floor with a shaking hand. When she finally looked up, she saw her husband staring at her quizzically.

"Of course it's the truth." He stood and walked across the room, stopping in front of where she sat and putting a hand on her shoulder. "The evidence is all there. Suni left her husband, and he's a good officer, a good man. I know him. If she was capable of leaving him for some other man, then I'd say she's capable of anything."

Her mind froze, unable to process his words completely. It was unthinkable. Capable of leaving a stifling, cold, unpleasant man – her husband wasn't the only one who knew Commander Neroon – somehow meant she was capable of attacking three fully-armed and armored troopers? It was a lie. A lie to cover a murder. She shook her head, and her husband squeezed her shoulder again.

"Ah, Natrie. You're too soft-hearted, never wanting to see the bad in anyone." She almost snorted, but was able to change it to a strange sobbing sound at the last moment. As expected, his other hand slid up to the opposite shoulder. "It's a lovely trait, but I'm afraid it's not very realistic."

She took a deep breath and, firmly replacing that mask over her features, lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror. The look of condescension made her anger flare, but her mask was on, and she had always been a good actress. Nodding, she summoned a small smile. "You're right, beloved."

Bending to kiss her cheek, he murmured, "Of course I am."

---

Two days later, Vrindo returned. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, he looked at her and began, "Have you thought-"

"Perhaps we should get business out of the way first?"

He frowned for a moment, then his brow cleared. "Fine."

She led the way to the sitting area, trying to gather her courage. "Do you even know how you're going to open the program-"

He'd already pulled out a datapad and began to speak, not letting her finish. "Natrie, wife of a Lieutenant Commander, is a woman like many of you. She's unaccountably shy in large settings and much prefers a quiet evening at home with the family, she supports her husband in his career endeavors, and has a daughter that loves sweetcakes – or is that you?"

"How did you know that?"

"I retrieved your merchant records. Now," he said, tossing the datapad to the couch and sitting down, elbows propped on his knees. "Have you given any thought to what we discussed last time?"

"Yes. And… I- I can't. I have to protect my daughter."

"You've got to do better than that, Natrie. If you really wanted to protect her, you'd expound the virtues of the Emperor, not fill her head with the 'lies' of the Jedi. With talk like that of a Rebel Alliance member."

"But, the truth-"

"So it does matter to you, then?"

She swallowed. "Of course it does. The children…"

"The children?"

"The Jedi Temple, there were children, so many. How could they have been involved in any plot?"

"And he murdered them, the same as if he'd pulled the blaster trigger himself. Palpatine murdered them."

"Yes."

"Then why don't you _fight_? Help us!"

She shook her head and stood, walking back and forth as she spoke. "What help could I be to you? I'm the wife of an Imperial officer, my hands are tied behind my back – I can't even order the groceries I want without him hovering over and directing my every move!"

He also stood and stepped in front of her, stilling her restless pacing. "What help could you be, as the wife of an Imperial officer? Come on, Natrie. We aren't looking to you to hold a blaster pistol. We need information. _Intelligence_. And even the most tight-lipped man will spill secrets on a pillow warm from-"

"That's quite enough." She turned, her cheeks heated.

"Too harsh? Very well, then. You know what I mean. You're an intelligent woman, whether you pretend otherwise or not."

"Intelligent?" She snorted, a sound her mother would admonish her for, if she ever heard it. _Not ladylike._ "If I was intelligent, I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be stuck in a marriage with an inhuma-" She stopped and swallowed, wondering what it was about Vrindo that made her say too much. Whatever it was, it was certainly a boon for a reporter. "I wasn't smart enough, before all of this, to know…."

"You're smart enough now." He reached out and touched her cheek and, to her surprise, she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned into it, strength and warmth… it was the shock of her response that made her leap back. He misinterpreted it, however. "My apologies."

"It's all right." They stared at each other, and she recalled how he'd answered her the last time, when she asked him if he would flatter and flirt to help the cause. Was this just another extension of that? The very thought was a chastisement - what was wrong with her? Leaning into someone else's touch, when he'd said straight out he'd do whatever it took to convince her to help.

"Should they be allowed to do such deeds, and suffer none for it? Should they be free to continue to do such deeds to any who oppose?"

She looked down, uncomfortable at the directness of his gaze. "Did you hear what happened to Suni Neroon?" She heard his heavy sigh and looked up at him. "I can't risk it. Mierie is too young to be without a mother."

"Suni left her husband." He couldn't meet her eyes, however. "It's not the same-"

"You think spying on my husband would be seen as better by the Imperial Navy than sleeping with another man under his nose?" She laughed, a dry sound. "They'd whore me out themselves before they'd suffer a spy in their midst."

He had no answer; it was the truth, and they both knew it.

---

A week later, she attended another function, this time at a General's home. It was extravagant, as expected, with gemstones scattered on the serving trays as decorations. She wondered if anyone had ever dared to snag one or two of the sparkling jewels, but it seemed that the servers kept a close eye on their trays as they moved through the room.

She spoke with Sera briefly, much of the conversation centering on a subject that Natrie was actually interested in – Suni Neroon. Sera was full of shock and amazement that any woman would leave her husband, particularly an officer of such rank, and Natrie had to bite her tongue physically to avoid saying something out of character. It was a relief when Trienne swept up and brushed Sera away with a well-placed suggestion of exotic sweets in the far corner.

The other woman wore a brilliant purple, this time. It was a color that very few women could carry, but Trienne did it with panache. She exuded confidence and power, though Natrie imagined she would still give off the same air even in a ratty evening robe. As they spoke of the gowns and the forbidden subject of Suni Neroon, Trienne brought up Mierie.

"Soon, she'll be old enough to attend these functions, don't you think?"

Natrie blinked. "Oh. I didn't think about that. She still seems young to me, for something like this."

"Nonsense! Where better to scope out-" Trienne stopped, waving in a grand gesture to someone near the front entrance. Natrie craned her neck to see who it was, and dropped back to her heels when she saw Vrindo's familiar figure headed their way. "Your friend Vrindo. He had a lot of good things to say about you. You know, he might make you the focus of the program."

"Oh, my."

"Anyway, as I was saying, Mierie is just a few years from that age, really."

Vrindo came up at just that moment and, with a wicked grin, he bowed low over Trienne's hand. "You waved, and I came."

"Good boy, good boy. You know, if I was single and a couple of decades younger, I'd put a claim mark on you." Trienne winked at Natrie. "An already-trained man, you can't just pluck those out of a gunga fruit tree, can you?"

"No, indeed," she replied, looking at Vrindo with a grin.

"Ah, but he's a permanent bachelor. You won't believe the women he's turned down that I've hand-picked for him."

"Madam Trienne, I'd take you up on one or two of them, if they were at all my type." Vrindo raised an eyebrow and looked over at Natrie. "She does like her little jokes, Trienne does. So far, I've avoided her evil schemes."

"Evil schemes?" Natrie laughed. 

"Let's see… she's tried to tempt me with a woman three decades my senior-"

"You can't ignore the value of experience, young man!" Trienne tried to look offended, but her smirk was too evident.

"Another one barely out of the womb-"

"She was old enough according to her planet's guidelines."

Natrie giggled. "Oh, my."

"And another that was quite lovely but as empty-headed as a half-witted Gungan."

Trienne shook her head. "I really thought I'd have you on that one, Vrindo. How did you know?"

"My brother had dated her once." Vrindo winked at her. "You should work your wiles on him – he's much more gullible."

"And therefore no fun. What's the challenge?" Trienne shook her head. "Now, before you came up and took us off-topic, I was just reminding Natrie that her own young one will be ready for the market soon."

Natrie shook her head. "Oh, no. Not soon-"

"Just a few years. How old were you when you married?"

"Too young," Natrie muttered, taking a drink from the tray of a passing server.

Trienne's eyes crinkled as she chuckled. "We're all too young when we marry, my dear. If only we could go into life as wise as we are when come out of it, we'd all be better off."

Natrie made a non-committal noise and took a sip of her drink, wincing as she realized it was that horrible sweet concoction that so many of the women preferred.

Trienne leaned towards Vrindo. "Now, there are plenty of young men here that will be ones to keep an eye on. Young officers that will be just coming into their own when young Mierie is ready to settle into her place in life."

Vrindo nodded, studying the crowd. "Plenty of upstanding young officers here, good _loyal_ Imperial men." He shot a glance at Natrie. "There's no greater blessing than for a daughter to walk in her mother's footsteps, is there?"

Her expression froze, his words hitting her hard, but luckily Trienne didn't notice. With a wink at Vrindo, Trienne said, "Oh, indeed. I think a good, ambitious man, one who knows himself, would suit her well – if she's anything like you."

Natrie forced a smile to her face. "Of course." An image of Mierie came unbidden to her mind, and she cringed inside as she watched her beautiful daughter's light dim under the life Natrie led.

"Oh, dear. There's the General's wife. I'd better at least say hello to her, or I'll not hear the end of it. At least she's not quite so insufferable as the rest of these sycophants." Trienne wagged a finger under Vrindo's nose. "Now, no repeating that, casually or on the HoloNet, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Madam." He bowed elegantly and Trienne threw her head back, laughing. With a wave, she slipped away, promising to catch up with Natrie shortly.

Mierie. What would her daughter do, when she reached majority? What _could_ she do? And, as Trienne had pointed out, the time was rapidly approaching. The other evening, when her husband had worked a night shift to oversee some new junior officers, she and Mierie had sat up late watching old HoloNet recordings that Natrie's grandmother had left her. Incontrovertible evidence of Mierie's approaching womanhood had made itself known when she sighed – more than once - over the handsome Jedi. Mierie had giggled when Natrie told her that, when she was Mierie's age, she'd had a terrible crush on General Kenobi. While most of the girls threw their hearts at Anakin Skywalker's feet, the teenaged Natrie had wanted to be different, not one of the crowd.

And now, she was in the middle of a crowd, and there was no escape.

She sucked in a breath, finding that her lungs seemed reluctant to expand and contract the way they should; the room was close, too close, and the people around her began to dim and fade into each other, becoming one huge entity instead of the dozens of smaller beings that they truly were. Breathing deeply, she fought her way through the crowd to the balcony area, and the touch of cool air on her skin helped to bring her equilibrium back.

_There's no greater blessing than for a daughter to walk in her mother's footsteps, is there?_ No. Not Mierie. Natrie wouldn't allow it; she couldn't condemn her daughter to a life with no hope, with no choice, when she had the means to prevent it. She had to at least _try_.

Someone stepped out onto the balcony, slowly approaching her position near the railing. She didn't turn; she knew who it was, and she also knew she had to get the words out before the nerve left her. When he was close enough, she whispered, "I'll do it."

He moved beside her - close enough to speak without being overheard but not close enough to raise suspicions. "Good."

She looked over at him, watching as he plucked a smokestick from a small pocketbox. Strong, elegant fingers… a scar crossed one knuckle and she wondered how he'd come by it. An accident, perhaps? Or something more sinister? It was a dangerous game that he played, and now she'd agreed to play the same game.

One of her father's favorite sayings came to her, then. _The line between courage and idiocy is very fine. _

Beside her, Vrindo lit a smokestick and inhaled deeply, blowing out the fragrant smoke in a thin stream before meeting her eyes once more. She forgot her fears as a spark flitted through her stomach, and she wondered how it was that this man's gaze could do this to her, could make her feel both feminine and strong, while her husband's gaze seemed to minimize all that she was.

"How will I contact you? I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to do…"

"I'll handle it. Don't worry." They stared at each other, a strange tension mounting as she struggled to maintain a casual expression. The silence built until she experienced an overwhelming need to fill it with something, _anything_, but just before she could speak, he broke eye contact with a quick shake of his head. Stepping back, he tossed the smokestick to the balcony floor and ground it out with his boot, looking out over the railing of the balcony to the city beyond. 

"I'll handle everything." Jaw clenched, he slid through the door into the main room, and was quickly swallowed by the crowd.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Many thanks to everyone who's reading and especially reviewing! I'm sorry this update is so late - Halloween and work conspired against me. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and many many thanks to Buttercup for her beta!

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Four  
---------------  
Natrie stood on the balcony of their apartment, watching speeders and transports stream by. So many beings, so many individuals, so many stories. Would anyone believe hers, she wondered, picking at a rough spot on the balcony railing. It wasn't likely; she could hardly believe it herself. A dark blue speeder passed by, its brilliant metal shining from the lights of the surrounding vehicles, and her thoughts turned - once again - to Vrindo Larzin. To what she'd agreed to do.

It was a thrilling thought, a coveted daydream, to be a part of the Rebellion. She'd read spy stories as a young girl, watched Holo mystery programs, and had always envied the lives of the characters -- exciting and beautiful, with romance and intrigue around every corner, and a noble cause at their back. But fiction rarely gave full disclosure, and daydreams never did. The characters never mentioned, in those stories, how nervous they were, how scared, how they weren't certain they could keep going, or even how they weren't certain they could _begin_.

Now that she'd made the decision, she didn't know where to begin. Vrindo had said he'd handle it, that he'd handle everything. That she and Mierie would be protected. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed, and she studied the passing speeders with a more critical eye. Were they being watched, even now? Had they been watched before? It should have been a chilling thought, but instead she found it comforting.

What was she supposed to do? Would the Rebellion really find value in what little she knew? Perhaps the special meetings that her husband attended might be of some interest, but the normal day-to-day events in the Imperial Navy wouldn't be of any use to the Rebellion – or would they?

A breeze came up, blowing her cloak to one side, and she shivered slightly before pulling it back around her. She normally tucked Mierie in, but he'd insisted on doing that night, since he would be leaving before she awoke the next morning. Her husband was set to be away for a few days for another special meeting, this time to a location near the Outer Rim. Mierie was disappointed; Natrie was ecstatic. Not only because she wouldn't have to wear her mask quite so diligently, but also because it was possible he would come back with information that could be some use to Vrindo.

She left the railing and sat, enjoying the cool evening air, letting the zip of the speeders and lower thrum of the transports lull her. And so it was with irritation that she saw her husband walk out onto the balcony. He held a datapad in his hand, and she wondered at it as he sat and said, "It's a nice night."

_It **was**._ "Yes, it is." She smiled at him, feeling a small pang of guilt as she did so. She knew she shouldn't feel guilt, not after all that had happened, not after all he had brushed aside as inconsequential, yet the idea of loyalty was too ingrained in her to react otherwise. Soon, she would be breaking that loyalty, and it was unsettling. Though, hadn't she been breaking it all along, by teaching Mierie of things she knew her husband would not approve?

"Did Sera send you another invitation?"

Natrie sighed, glancing at the datapad in his hands. She should have known that he had looked through her personal communications – but at least he was pretending to ask the question he already knew the answer to. "Yes."

Sitting back, her husband stared at her seriously, and she tensed, waiting for the expected missive. "You should accept. It doesn't look very good, that you've turned her down so-"

"No."

"Natrie, you spend so much time with the Admiral's wife-"

"Trienne," Natrie snapped. He seemed almost frightened to say her friend's name – as if it would be disrespectful in some way. It irritated her - Trienne was just a person, not a goddess made flesh just because of who her husband happened to be. A delightful person, to be sure, and one that Natrie greatly enjoyed spending time with, but a person nonetheless.

Her husband paused a moment, then his jaw set and he continued, "You spend so much time with _her_ at these functions, the other wives don't get a chance to speak with you. And it's hardly politically advisable for you to snub the others completely."

"I can hardly snub the Admiral's wife, can I? What are you suggesting, that I tell her I can't speak at the next event because some lower officers' wives might feel bad?" Natrie's voice grew more heated as she spoke. It was one thing for him to make demands on her for these functions – they were a side aspect of his career – but to make demands on her personal time? 

"Of course not!" He tossed the datapad to the balcony's stone floor, and she winced when it struck hard. Hopefully it hadn't broken; if it had, he'd somehow make it out to be her fault. "But it would be only natural for you to socialize with some of the other wives when you do get a chance, since you are unable to at these functions."

It was reasonable; she knew it was reasonable, but she felt unaccountably defiant. Rebellious, even. It was a particularly apt choice of words. "I already said no."

He stared at her, his face tight, then he stood and very precisely straightened his shirt. "Later, after I return from assignment, we'll discuss this again. Maybe then you'll be more reasonable."

_I doubt it_.

He left the balcony without another word, without even a glance in her direction. Clenching her fists, she took several deep breaths, waiting for the irritation to cool. This was certainly not the best way to leave things - if he went on the trip while angry, he'd be cool towards her when he returned, and less likely to speak of what occurred. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered her very much, but now things were different. She couldn't waste a perfect opportunity to learn more because of a fit of pique.

Rubbing her face, she leaned over and picked up the datapad before rising to follow him inside. She really needed to set up a passcode of some sort, but if she did that now, he'd think it suspicious. Yet one more thing she should have done long ago, in the early stages of their marriage. There were many opportunities missed, in those years.

By the time she finished straightening up the front room and replacing the now-dented datapad, he had already changed into his sleeping clothes. She bit back a sigh and walked into their bedroom, wondering what it would be that night: the icy silence, the sullen one-line comments, or the outright hostility? When he looked at her sadly and then glanced away, she grimaced. This night's reaction would apparently be the affected pain of the martyr. She rather thought she'd prefer the icy silence.

Reminding herself of her duty, not only to him but to the Rebellion, she took a deep breath and walked up behind him, touching his bare shoulder. "I'm sorry, beloved. I spoke too quickly out there, and I want you to know I _will_ think on it."

As expected, he turned, and smiled, lifting one hand to stroke her cheek. "That's all I ask."

But it wasn't all he was asking, and they both knew it.

The next day, she enjoyed the calm silence, and took the time to watch some recent HoloNet broadcasts. It was pleasant to view the stories without the commentary from her husband, and she'd started to wait until he was off at work, or on one of his trips, before she watched anything in-depth. Some of the broadcasts she saved to show Mierie, and she was proud of her daughter's growing ability to see through the Empire's spin. Perhaps they'd rewatch some that evening… Natrie glanced at the chronometer and realized it was time to pick her daughter up from her friend's house.

She frowned as she turned off the holo projector and grabbed her cloak and boots. Her husband had been called away more often than before, and while she appreciated the respite, she worried at what it might mean. Another promotion, another set of responsibilities and more pressure to socialize, she suspected. It would be a boon for her recent decision, of course – the wife of a higher level officer would be even more valuable to the Rebellion. He would have higher security clearance, would be admitted to even more of the special meetings, be privy to more of the planning and long-term preparations of the Empire.

As she made her way to the ground floor of their building, she winced. A promotion would also mean that they would be invited to even more mind-numbing functions, likely some off-planet that she'd have to attend with him. She didn't like the idea of leaving Mierie for so long, but there was little to be done about it, and there was little point in worrying over it before it even came to pass.

With relief, she stepped out onto the street, leaning her head back to draw in a deep breath. The cool air against her face was calming, and helped to clear her head. She liked that Mierie's friend lived so close; walking was far preferable to riding in one of those hired ships. She always felt awkward taking those, but she'd feel even more awkward flying herself – piloting wasn't a skill she'd taken to very well. Her father had tried to teach her, before his death, but she'd only gained a rudimentary knowledge of the skills involved. 

The afternoon was darker than normal due to the heavy cloud cover blanketing the city, but luckily it hadn't decided to rain. The threat of it was enough to keep some of the normal crowds off of the street, however, and so she enjoyed a rather leisurely walk. Buildings rose all around her, and she still found it to be an exhilarating sight. On her home planet of Gabris Prime, they'd kept as much of the natural landscape as they could. She did miss it on occasion, but it was interesting to walk here, where buildings obscured almost all sight of the sky from the street, unless one looked directly up. A testament to the heights beings could reach, if they worked together.

She nodded pleasantly to a woman she recognized from the functions, and bit back a sigh when the other woman just raised an eyebrow and continued on her way. The wife of a junior officer, but one who was rising in the ranks quite steadily…. Natrie pulled her cloak around her and absently ran her fingers along the edge of the material, considering the woman's reaction. She didn't know how much longer she could resist her husband's recent request. He had had a point, after all, but did Sera Saan have to be the one that continued to hound her so? There were others that weren't so obviously working the game that she would much rather spend time with. Perhaps she would send some invitations of her own out. That ought to satisfy her husband, as well as the social butterflies among the wives.

She bit her lip as she considered the various possibilities, so distracted by her thoughts that she was oblivious to her surroundings, and so the low voice that came from behind startled more than it should have. "You should listen to your husband."

"What?" Her head whipped around, and she blinked when she saw Vrindo standing there. Ignoring the rush of excitement when she set eyes on him - quite separate from the adrenaline rush she'd felt when he'd startled her - she tilted her head. "What did you-"

"You should do what your husband said. Visit Sera." He glanced casually up and down the street, then took her arm and, in a friendly gesture, beckoned her to continue walking.

"But-"

"Wait just a moment, Natrie. A little more privacy is always a good thing, and neither of us has much time."

She nodded, and didn't protest as he led her to a small side street, which was sheltered from the main road. Letting her arm drop, he turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know-" She stopped, then, and asked the more pertinent question. "Sera Saan? Why should I-"

"Play the game, Natrie. It's the only way to win. The only way to protect your daughter – and yourself." A smokestick flared to life and she stared at the red and orange end as it glowed brighter with each inhalation. After a few puffs, he lowered it.

"I don't think I want to play Sera's game," she muttered, but stopped when his expression grew serious.

"Not everyone is what they seem. You weren't, after all."

Then, before she could respond, he touched her hand, turned, and walked off. She stared after him, confusion flooding her. _Not everyone is what they seem_. That was true enough, but… Sera? She had a hard time believing that one wasn't playing the game whole-heartedly. She shook her head and continued on her way, but later that night, after Mierie was in bed, she pulled up the most recent invitation on the scuffed datapad and typed out a response.

An acceptance. 

And so it was that, the very next day, she found herself in Sera Saan's sitting room, sipping at a drink that was, this time, not the typical syrupy concoction Sera seemed to prefer at the functions. It was light, with subtle sweet undertones, and not at all what Natrie had expected. That had been a surprise, as was the room itself. The decorations in the Saan home were tasteful, and quite similar to what Natrie herself had chosen for their home. For some reason, she'd expected something more garish.

"So," Sera said, watching Natrie closely over the lip of her cup. "What did you think of what happened with the Suni Neroon situation?"

Natrie took her time answering, returning Sera's gaze. Sera seemed different, somehow, and she wondered if it was just a result of being on her 'home turf', or if the other woman was also irritated by her friendship with Trienne. "It was a surprise, actually. I didn't know much about Suni, but I'd never have suspected she'd have the nerve to… to attack troopers."

Sera pursed her lips and nodded, sending her a pointed look. "You weren't surprised she left her husband?"

Natrie shrugged, frowning inwardly as she answered in the expected manner. This visit certainly wasn't what she'd expected. Where was the incessant empty talk, the maneuvering for her husband's benefit? After the initial pleasantries, the visit had seemed more like an interview of sorts, a toe in the water to test the heat.

Was she being baited? It was possible, but didn't seem likely. Perhaps Sera had overheard Natrie and Trienne once and started to wonder if there was more to Natrie, just as Natrie now suspected there was more to Sera than she'd initially thought.

Suddenly, the tone sounded at the door and, pursing her lips, Sera shook her head. "I didn't expect him back so soon."

"Your husband? I don't want to intrude-" She made to set her drink down, but Sera stopped her.

"No, no, stay. He won't mind us talking here, right, darling?" Sera smiled and stood as a man appeared in the doorway, and Natrie felt a stab of envy when she saw the sincere affection in the other woman's face. It seemed the similarities between their homes ended at the decorations. "Oren, you've met Natrie, haven't you?"

"Yes, yes, hello." Oren smiled in her direction, his expression much easier than she'd ever seen it at one of the functions. He was a striking man, with deep black hair and a wide smile. The two made an attractive couple. "Welcome. I'm glad you decided to come by. I heard the Lieutenant Commander was off on assignment; it must get lonely sometimes."

"Sometimes, yes. But Mierie, our daughter, keeps me…" Her voice trailed off, eyes widening when another man appeared behind Sera's husband.

Vrindo.

Oren's smile broadened when he caught sight of Natrie's expression. "You know my brother-in-law, I believe?"

"You know that she does, love." Sera smirked in her direction. "Most of the Rebel informants on Coruscant do."

Completely unprepared for the words, Natrie froze, and she could feel her heart beating in her chest as she stared at the blonde woman. Then she shifted her gaze to Vrindo, and her initial feeling of fear merged into one of disbelief when she saw him roll his eyes.

"Imperial Center, my dear, not Coruscant," Vrindo corrected in an amused tone. Coruscant. It wasn't an often-used name, not since the Emperor had declared the planet now had a new title and status. "Oren, I thought you were going to work with her on that?"

Sera made a face at Vrindo, sitting down with a flounce. "An intentional slip, Vrindo. I'd only say it in safe company." 

Finally finding her voice, Natrie forced out, "You're both spies?" Sera looked at her and smirked again.

"Such a harsh word. I prefer 'Rebel informants', myself."

"Spies works for me. There's no point in couching it in pretty terms, is there?" Vrindo said.

Sera waved her hand. "I like pretty things." She cut a glance at Natrie, then turned back to Vrindo. "And so do you, my dear brother."

"Half-brother."

"Close enough."

Natrie shifted uncomfortably, the deep blue fabric of her skirt making a low noise as it caught on the soft pile of the cushions. She had no siblings of her own, and while she knew that such banter and goading was typical, she had no idea how to react. She had no idea how to react to any of this. Dozens of questions lined up in her head, but she didn't know which to ask first.

Oren seemed to notice her unease, and stepped forward. "Now, now, not in front of the guest, you two. Try to behave, while I go get a couple of extra glasses." With that, he left the room.

"She's not a guest, she's part of the family, Oren," Sera called after him. "The Rebel informant family."

"And we don't want to scare her off right at the beginning, now, do we?" Vrindo raised an eyebrow at Sera, who just shrugged, then he turned back to Natrie.

She felt as if her head was spinning. Sera, she never would have thought… and her husband, also? Natrie had known, logically, that there had to be spies in the military itself, but she never expected it to be someone she knew.

She stared as Vrindo sat down across from her. "Relax, Natrie. It's a bit of a shock, especially since you've spoken to Sera before."

"Yes. Of course, I just…"

"Didn't expect anything more than the typical empty-headed Imperial wife?" Sera propped her chin on her hand and smiled. The expression seemed more than a little predatory.

Natrie shifted her drink from one hand to the other, absently noting the sweat marks she left on the glass. "Well… I..."

"Leave her be, Sera." Vrindo shook his head at his sister. His eyes softened when he turned back to Natrie. "Since you're here," he said, "quite by happenstance, of course-"

"Happenstance…" Natrie frowned as a sudden suspicion hit her. "How long has this been planned?"

"How long has what been planned?" 

"Getting me to… I thought it was just when you saw me that night on the balcony, and found out I hadn't told my husband, but that was the same night Sera…"

"Oh, don't stop there." Sera took a sip of her drink, her eyes glittering with amusement. "'The same night Sera' what?"

"Well, that night was the first night you accosted me-" She stopped and shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, that's probably not the right way to put it."

"Oh, it's the perfect way to put it," Vrindo muttered, staring at the ceiling.

"And is it so wrong to want Oren to rise in the ranks? You said it yourself, Vrindo, time and again: 'play the game, it's the only way to win.'" As Sera imitated Vrindo's voice, Natrie admitted silently that it was a rather accurate rendition, at least in inflection and delivery. There was no way Sera's voice could mimic the deeper, richer tones of her brother.

"Speared by my own words." Vrindo sighed. "Won't be the last time, I'm certain."

"I'm certain, too," Oren said as he returned to the room with two fresh drinks. He set them down on the table, then took a seat. "Sera was just working towards her normal goal that night, Natrie. It was pure coincidence."

"Or meant to be, some would say. The will of the Force." Natrie shot a glance at Sera, surprised - even with her newfound knowledge - to hear such things from the other woman.

Oren nodded casually at his wife's comment. "Some would. Now, perhaps we ought to give her some information? Vrindo did say he hadn't spoken to her since-"

"Right. Right, as always, Oren." Vrindo leaned forward and retrieved his drink from the low table. "You already know the basics. Intelligence is what we need. We all keep our ears open, and our eyes watchful. Oren is fairly well-placed, but the Imperial Navy is tight with security, and rank comes into play. So, anything that you hear from your husband could be of use."

"What type of things are you looking for, in particular?" Natrie asked. "If I knew what to steer a conversation to…"

"Information on planets that might be next on the Empire's list for attack, weaknesses in the ranks, location of weapons caches, new weapons and technology, weak points in security, troop movements... basically, anything."

Natrie blinked. On occasion, her husband would tell her things relating to such matters, but it wasn't a constant topic of conversation.

"What we _don't_ want is for you to all of a sudden begin with the questions. Keep the status quo for now, and add a question here or there, prod him for more gradually-" Oren didn't even blink when his wife interrupted him.

"And what is the status quo, may I ask? What does he normally tell you?"

Natrie twisted the cool metal of her wedding ring with her thumb as she considered the question, and a thin tendril of guilt fluttered within her. Before it could take hold, she wrapped both hands firmly around her glass. "Sometimes he'll talk of what they'll be doing, plans and such. But mostly he just vents, really, especially after those special meetings."

"Vents?" Sera tapped one finger on the arm of her chair, her eyes narrowed.

"Yes. About arguments during the meetings, inefficiencies, who dislikes who, that sort of thing."

"Excellent. Pay close attention, next time, and let us know anything you hear. Particularly about the infighting," Oren said.

"That sort of thing would be useful?"

"Eminently." Vrindo sat back, swirling his drink. "When there's animosity like that, Officer A will be much more likely to blame Officer B's incompetence, rather than look deeper into any…"

"Discrepancies?" Oren offered.

"Right. Discrepancies, indiscretions, things going not exactly according to plan."

"Not going according to plan?"

"Sometimes our _spies_-" Vrindo glanced at Sera, lifting his eyebrow challengingly. "-get sloppy. They forget things, or aren't familiar with the normal workings of a certain regiment. It helps to have a scapegoat at the ready."

Sera nodded impatiently. "And any of the plans you do hear, anything he says, could be helpful. We're working on Oren's rank, but for now he's shut out of a lot of that-"

This time, Oren interrupted Sera, but she seemed a bit more put off by it than he had. "I see some of it, but most of those upper officers won't show a drop of emotion outside of closed doors, much less discuss plans with a lowly junior lieutenant."

"And right now, he's still on the other side of those doors." Sera's expression was determined, and so unwavering that it took Natrie aback. "For now."

"Well, I've got some more interviews to conduct. The Admiral is looking for an initial cut soon." Vrindo stood. "And, not to cut things short, but this might be a bit long for an initial social call from Natrie, don't you think, Sera?"

Sera glanced at the silver wall chronometer and grimaced, nodding. "I think so."

Natrie also rose. "Well, thank you, Sera, for your hospitality." Her head was still spinning as she tried to reconcile the image she'd once had of Sera - and Oren - with this new knowledge. With a deep breath, she looked at Vrindo, glad for his presence. "I assume I send information to you through Sera?" She felt a slight pang at the thought.

"Exactly, and it's why I suggested you come here."

"I really should be offended, you know," Sera said. "I send you multiple invitations, and you ignore them, but Vrindo makes one suggestion and you come racing over."

Natrie bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Luckily, Vrindo stepped in.

"Enough, Sera," Vrindo said, not taking his eyes off Natrie. "You might want to make it a habit to stop by here frequently. That way it won't stand out, those times that you do see her for business."

"We're about to become very close friends." Sera smiled and raised her glass in Natrie's direction. "Very, _very_ close friends."

"I told you not to scare her off, Sera." 

"Oh, that wouldn't scare her off. We've had a lot of conversations at the officers' functions."

Vrindo gave her a dubious look before offering Natrie his arm. After a few more farewells, he led her out onto the private balcony and then around, through the covered path leading to the landing pad.

As they approached the pad, she reluctantly let go of his arm and pulled out the small datacard that the transport had given her to signal for pickup. Vrindo stopped just inside the opening and frowned back at her. "A transport? I'd wondered why I didn't see your ship here. Surely your husband left the speeder for you to-"

"Oh. Yes, yes he did. But I hate piloting." A breeze blew through the causeway and swirled her hair around her head, and she fought to get it back under control. "I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid."

"Did you never learn?"

"I did. The basics, at least, from my father. And my husband took me out in our speeder a couple of times, just to be sure I could fly it if I had to. But I'm not very comfortable with it."

"You ought to get him to take you out again, to get used to it. There's nothing more dangerous than a nervous pilot."

She paused, her hands stilling their movement in her hair, until she saw him frown. With a sharp shake of her head, she said, "I don't think so. It wasn't… it wasn't a very pleasant experience. He isn't the best teacher."

"Ah. A perfectionist, no doubt."

She grimaced. "Perfectionist doesn't even cover it."

Vrindo leaned against the wall, watching her twist her hair into a knot behind her head. "The more I hear, the less I like him."

Natrie laughed, but it was a dry sound. "Well, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be of any use to you, so I suppose there's some benefit to the way he is." There had to be.

"Perhaps." Vrindo studied her for a few more moments, and then took out a smokestick. "On that subject… you might be able to report directly to me here, actually. I'm around often enough. Sera cooks better than my non-existent servants do."

Natrie smiled. "The typical bachelor?"

He chuckled. "She does cook quite well, but it's really just a convenient excuse. And Oren, of course, I've been friends with him since school."

"Did he do _his_ homework for classes?" Natrie asked with a half smile.

"Much more than I ever did." He ran a hand through his hair, shifting it so that it would blow away from his face. "I was too busy practicing to become the typical bachelor."

Natrie laughed. "Well, your practice paid off."

He leaned his head back against the stone wall and stared at her thoughtfully, the ashes from the forgotten smokestick falling to the tiles below before getting taken up by the breeze. 

"Do you really listen, when Sera has you in her clutches at those 'events'?"

Natrie smiled, and looked over to the landing pad, where the transport had just pulled up. "Hardly a word. But I'm a good actress."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

--

Her husband returned two days later, precisely on schedule. Mierie was still in classes when he came through to the bedroom, where she was hanging up the uniforms she'd retrieved from the laundry earlier that day.

She hung the final uniform and turned. "You're back!" She hoped her smile seemed sincere enough.

He nodded. "It completed on schedule, for once." Crossing the room, he pulled her into an embrace, kissing her briefly. "I heard you were busy while I was gone?"

She smiled, then shyly lowered her face, pressing against him. "Sera was very pleasant. I'm…" The words were difficult to force out, and she frowned at the floor, berating herself for being weak. Strength she needed, to feign weakness. To wear her mask. "I'm sorry I was so difficult, darling." 

He pulled back, looking down at her with a smug smile. "I knew you would come around. I'm not sure why you protested - you've always been able to speak to almost anyone."

She nodded, though her throat closed. Did he even know her at all? After a moment, she forced a self-deprecating smile. "Well, you said I was too soft-hearted, didn't you?"

He laughed, and she studied him critically. He really was a handsome man. It was a shame that she knew him too well, now, and could no longer see his virtue through his faults. "Mierie has a bit of that trait, too. She has the best of both of us, I think."

At that, her eyes did soften in truth, and the smile came easily to her lips. "She does." Moving to the dressing table, she sat and picked up a comb, turning it in her hands. Trying to sound casual, she said, "Did Suni and Commander Neroon have any children?"

"One, I believe. He's grown, though. Stationed somewhere near Endor." Her husband walked up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders before pulling her hair back from her neck.

"Oh." Still fiddling with the comb, she twisted one long hair around her finger. "Do you think… do you think she was bored, maybe? With no work to do, really, and no children nearby…"

"Bored?" He chuckled. "Now, how could that be? There's entertaining to be done, and the Neroons hosted a number of dinner parties."

Entertaining. She stared at his reflection, and instead of his face she saw an endless future stretched out before her, filled with social parties and stilted conversation – the kind of conversation that made her yearn for anything else, even her own husband's presence. She knew why Suni Neroon had left her husband, and it didn't have anything to do with another man, but what that other man had represented: freedom. But it had been an empty dream; here in the new Empire, there was no escape.

Her fears, her trepidation, melted away. For the first time since agreeing to help the Rebellion, that lingering sense of guilt dissolved, and reluctant acceptance gave way to burning determination.

"So," she said, setting down the comb and turning to face him. "What happened on this trip?"

To her delight, he shook his head and, with an irritated breath, began to relate the happenings of the most recent meeting. It didn't seem like much that would be useful to Vrindo, or to whomever he reported things to, but she filed everything away in memory. There was no way to know, for certain, which bits and pieces could help.

"There's another higher-level meeting in two days, but I should be back before the Admiral's function."

Natrie didn't have to feign pleasure at that news. "Oh, good, I've actually been looking forward to that one."

He smiled at her fondly, and she had to grit her teeth when the look reminded her all too much of how a man might look at a favored pet. "I thought you might. The Admiral's wife insisted that there be dancing, I believe."

"I heard. That's why I'm extra glad that you'll be back in time." Tilting her head, Natrie asked, "Why do you think the Commander is calling another session, so soon after this one? Do you think he's just overly cautious right now?"

"He's _always_ overly cautious. Even by my standards," her husband replied, warming to the subject. "If I were in his shoes, I would…"

Natrie nodded and smiled and frowned at the appropriate moments, and made use of her mask, and her memory.

--

It had been a long time since there had been a function that included more than just standing about, drinking and pretending to care what the other person said. The last had, in fact, been a few years prior, and so Natrie was looking forward to the event - particularly since it was being hosted at the Admiral's home. She had even sought out Sera's assistance in finding a dress, which had been the perfect opportunity to pass on the tidbits she'd learned from her husband after his first trip. To her disappointment, Vrindo wasn't present, but Sera took the small datapad and promised to deliver it to him when he next visited.

On the afternoon of the event, Natrie sat in her bedroom, watching as Mierie tried on the dress Sera had helped her choose. She was just a few fingers shorter than Natrie, now, and as she spun she smiled in pure feminine delight when the silvery fabric swirled heavily around her ankles. Just months ago, it likely wouldn't have even exposed her daughter's feet. Natrie bit her lip as she gazed at Mierie, struck by how old she looked. When had it happened? With a sick feeling in her stomach, she remembered Trienne's comments at the last function.

And Vrindo's.

The tone from the door interrupted her uncomfortable thoughts, and she was able to laugh when Mierie took off running. "Be careful in that dress, Mierie!" She followed, though a bit slower, and stopped in the entryway to the front room to watch her daughter and husband greet each other.

_If only this were really him, and there was no other face he showed,_ she mused, watching him drop his bag and gather their daughter in his arms. _**That** man, I could love._

"You look beautiful in that dress, sweetheart."

"Thank you," Mierie said, kissing his cheek. "I've got to get out of it now, though, so Mom can wear it."

"That's a good idea."

Her husband smiled as his daughter left the room, her step decidedly more cheerful than it had been the past few days. "She's so happy that you're home," Natrie murmured.

"So am I," he said, and his tone sounded so odd that she frowned.

"What's wrong? How was your trip?"

"Later. Let's just enjoy the function this evening."

She nodded and walked up to him, sliding her arms around him. If something from the meeting was still bothering him this much, she wanted to be certain to hear all about it later.

Natrie didn't have to feign a smile that evening as they entered the elegant ballroom; she'd always enjoyed dancing, and her training in the theater when she was young had included a wide variety of performing arts. Of course, there likely wouldn't be many here that could do more than the basic steps required in polite society. Her husband was an adept dancer, technically correct in all aspects, but something was missing. Heart, perhaps. He danced because it was a path to some goal, not because he wanted to for the sheer joy.

Trienne had invited not only officers, but also some civilians that had ties of one sort or another to the Imperial Navy. It was interesting to watch them, and the officers, and see the differences. The officers were stiff, some of them on edge, and it was obvious that many of them were uncomfortable with the thought of asking upper officers' wives to dance. It was expected, of course, to mingle and trade dance partners, and so after a few dances with her husband, Natrie spun off with Captain Decker, who proved to be a rather good dancer. Remembering that Vrindo had referred to him as a friend, she didn't have to force the smile to her face as he promised to find her again that evening.

Later, after dancing with most of the upper officers, Natrie found herself on the side of the room, drinking from a heavy silver goblet and watching the colorful group on the dance floor.

Vrindo moved quite well, she admitted silently, inspecting the two over the edge of her cup. Trienne did, also, but Natrie only watched her for a few moments before her attention was drawn back to Vrindo. Tall and lean, graceful... just as that thought hit her, he missed a step, and she watched as they both laughed. A wide smile lit his face and he lowered Trienne in an extravagant dip, his lack of self-consciousness a delight to behold. Not technically correct, to be sure, but he had heart, and charm, and he moved with a fluidity that mesmerized… and the hand not holding her goblet clenched tight in the fabric of her layered skirt.

She was a fool. She told herself that again and again; her mind knew it, her reason knew it. If only she get could the rest of herself to listen. 

Trienne was slightly breathless, but smiling, when she returned. "No one's claimed you yet? I was sure when we came back you'd be off, dancing with dozens more of them."

Natrie laughed. "You were right when you said they'd fear me. It seems the husbands do, too." She grinned. "Well, the under officers, at least. And I've already danced with most of the others, I think." She could see, from the corner of her eye, her own husband dancing with a delighted-looking Sera. The woman's ambition was almost mind-blowing, though Sera wished her husband to move ahead in order to better assist the Rebellion rather than for more credits and social standing. The purpose behind the ambition didn't make her any less ruthless or determined, however.

"But you haven't danced with Vrindo, yet!" Trienne grinned. Vrindo shook his head.

"Trienne, you are ever stealing my thunder." He glanced over to the side and, spotting the Admiral headed their way, leaned down and whispered, "Your husband is coming – you'd better pay him some attention or he'll suspect us."

"My greatest wish is that, one day, my life will be as exciting as people's suspicions make it out to be!" Trienne winked at him and then waved to them both as she went to meet her husband. Natrie smiled, taking another sip of her drink as she watched the rest of the dancers open up to accommodate the Admiral and his wife. They were quite a handsome couple, and obviously adored each other. She was happy for her friend, but the envy burned.

Vrindo's voice caught her attention. "She's right, you know. If you weren't so recognizable as Trienne's friend, and therefore rather unpopular among the lower wives, you _would_ have men lined at your feet."

"You can stop with the flattery, Vrindo," she said, holding back a smile. His face was pointed away from her, watching Trienne and the Admiral on the dance floor. "I've joined, you know."

He turned to look at her, a slow smile spreading over his face. "I know."

She'd always thought the term just the fanciful construct of a delusional mind, but when he said those words, when he looked at her so steadily, she felt the air leave her and she had to consciously instruct her body to start breathing again.

"A dance? Trienne did mention it, after all, though I'll admit she simply rushed what I'd planned to be a charmingly persuasive request."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "You know I'd love to, whether or not Trienne twisted your arm to ask. I love dancing, and there are far too few occasions which allow it."

"Hmm." He stepped towards her and offered his arm. As he led her out onto the floor, he looked down at her. "We seem to have something in common, at least partly. I love dancing with beautiful women, and there are far, far too few occasions to do it."

He smiled again and took her hand in a firm, warm grip, his eyes intent on hers. She swallowed and stared up at him, and she was once again a young woman, courted by a handsome, dashing man, the world and all its possibilities spread out before her. But this time the man didn't wear a suit of gray, and didn't hold steady to the lies of a murderer.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Huge thanks to Buttercup for her excellent beta! My apologies for this chapter being so late - as with my other WIP, I'm going to try to get back on track with a biweekly posting schedule, give or take a day or two. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Feedback is always appreciated :).

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Five  
----------------

There was little conversation in the speeder as Natrie and her husband traveled home from the Admiral's event, and Natrie could clearly hear the engine's low whine as it sank to the landing pad outside of their home. She glanced at her husband, wondering at the tension that remained in his face. Something rather extreme must have happened at this most recent meeting, for it to still be worrying him even now. He'd hidden it well – it was one of his gifts, really – at the Admiral's function; though she'd noticed a stiffness about him on occasion when she'd passed him on the dance floor, she doubted any of the other attendees would have noted it.

Except for Vrindo, perhaps. She frowned slightly, her mind on the man who had convinced her to work for the Rebellion. After their dance, some of the junior officers had worked up the nerve – or had enough of the potent drink – to claim her for a round or two. As the night wore on, she'd caught sight of Vrindo speaking with her husband and some of the other officers, and when he'd noticed her stare he had winked at her – a quick movement, barely discernible, but the effect on her had been dramatic.

She was a fool.

Wondering what they had been discussing, she accepted her husband's hand as he helped her from the speeder, and almost jumped when her husband spoke, his words answering her unspoken question. "I spoke with that holonet reporter - he wants to get some last minute footage. Pickups, I think he called it. He'll be by tomorrow evening."

"Oh, all right." She had known Vrindo would need to interview her husband, also, and had wondered when it would happen. Her voice was casual when she added, as if it had slipped her mind before now, "Did you know that he's Sera's brother?"

"Lieutenant Saan mentioned it. I believe they've been friends for some time," her husband said, his tone distracted. She was glad that he wasn't paying a great deal of attention to it – it was best that Vrindo remained a background figure in his mind, but now the connection was established; if her husband noticed she was more familiar with Vrindo than a typical reporter-interviewee relationship would allow, it was already explained.

He palmed the lighted panel beside the door, and it slid open without a sound. "I should be home by the time he arrives."

"Home? But… tomorrow's a restday!" The protest wasn't sincere, but it was expected, and she would play her role well. Especially now.

"Something's come up. I have to report for some meetings tomorrow – luckily they'll be held here, at the Imperial Center, but they could run long." 

"What-"

He cut her off with an imperious gesture, nodding towards the curved chair where they could see the back of Mierie's head. "I'll tell you later, Natrie. I don't want to worry Mierie."

_What would worry Mierie?_ Disquieted, Natrie crossed around to the front of the chair, nodding at the sitter, Freya, who was seated in the next chair, watching a holonet program.

"I think she's asleep," Natrie whispered, smiling down at her daughter, the light from the still-running holonet projector casting Mierie's features in a soft glow.

Freya shifted and blinked sleepy eyes at Natrie and her husband, who had come up behind. "I almost followed her to sleep, I do believe. Your chairs here are too comfortable."

"Thank you, Freya," Natrie said with a smile. Freya wasn't one of their normal sitters, but she was one of Mierie's favorites, and Natrie's, as well. An older woman, calm and dependable and sharp-witted, she reminded Natrie very much of her grandmother. "Was she any bother?"

"Of course not," Freya stated, waving her hand dismissively. "Lovely young woman, she is, very obedient."

"Probably more for you than for us," Natrie said with a smile. "Would you like-" 

"Thank you, Miss Abelar, for agreeing to watch her." Her husband's voice was stiff and formal, and Natrie withheld a sigh. He wasn't one to 'waste' his charm on those he viewed as beneath him, but there was no need to use that sort of tone with the woman. "I'll just show you out."

"Good night, Freya, and thank you again!"

As her husband led the woman to the door, Natrie debated calling him on his rudeness… but it wouldn't do any good, and she couldn't afford to needle him this evening. With a sigh, she touched Mierie's arm to wake her and move her to her own bed.

When she finally came to their bedroom, he was already there, taking off his boots. She stood in the doorway for a moment, preparing herself… it was much like she used to prepare for a performance on stage when she was young, but this was a familiar role, and easily donned. Entering the room, she took off her own shoes and sat at the dressing table. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Well, the morning meetings will be over the secure channel, so I'll be here for those." Both boots removed, he stood to place them precisely in their normal spot under his hanging uniforms. Order was everything. There was no tired flinging of footwear for her husband – not even a passionate tossing away of clothing when the mood took him. She had admired that discipline, once. "I won't be leaving until just before lunch for the Imperial Center meeting."

That was a disappointment; she'd hoped that he would be gone early, so she could report in to Sera as soon as possible. Standing, she began to unfasten her dress. "Mierie was invited to a friend's tomorrow morning – she was going to cancel, but I told her to wait just in case you didn't make it home in time or had things to do tomorrow."

"You're forever anticipating me, darling." He walked over and kissed her forehead, then reached up to loosen his uniform. "I hate to leave you two on my first day back, but it can't be helped."

"I'm sure I can find something to occupy myself."

His hands stilled on the fastening. "Sera mentioned a lunch tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right! I'd forgotten, in all the excitement," Natrie said, impressed with the ease at which the lie fell from her lips. He searched her face and then nodded, returning to the closet to put away his uniform.

She stared at him as she peeled off the dress and threw on her dressing robe, wondering at the tension in his form. Whatever had happened must have been big. Trying to decide the best way to broach the subject, she hung her dress and then moved behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "What happened, darling?"

His shoulder muscles tensed under her fingers before he turned to face her. "It was a… contentious meeting. The Commander refuses to see what's right under his nose."

"Still?" She kept her eyes on his, though his fingers were sliding along the neckline of her robe. Maybe if he was distracted, he would say more than he intended.

"Still. I don't know how long he'll last in this position." She stepped forward, slipping her own hands around him. _Keep talking_. "I was called away, actually. I've been appointed to a special security committee, headed by the Admiral."

Natrie raised her eyebrows. "That's quite an honor, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Then why are you worried-" She stopped when he bent and kissed the side of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Biting back a sigh, she settled herself to wait until morning for more information – it would seem out of place for her to continue asking about his trip now, while he was urging her towards the bed. She wasn't enthusiastic about it, but she was used to feigning interest, and it was an expected thing when he returned from a trip away. If she closed her eyes tight enough, she could imagine she were with someone else….

The next morning, her husband took Mierie to her friend's house before his comm meeting. While he was gone, Natrie took the opportunity to contact Sera. When the blonde's face appeared in the projector, Natrie smiled.

"Good morning, Sera. I was just confirming our lunch plans. I have a lot to talk to you about!" she said brightly, hoping that her face conveyed the urgency of the situation. She dared not speak more openly over a public channel, and using a private channel would only raise questions if her husband noticed the extra usage. _Contact Vrindo_, she urged silently.

It seemed that Sera picked up on it, because she nodded sharply. "I can't wait to hear it. Oh, my brother might be over, if that's not a problem."

"Of course not!"

"Good. I'll see you then."

When her husband returned, he went straight to the comm panel and set up the connection, though it was still a bit early. He was nothing if not punctual. Over the next couple of hours, Natrie occupied herself with housework as her husband attended the comm meeting. To judge by the look on his face when she passed through the room, it wasn't going very well.

She wondered as she picked up Mierie's room whether she ought to bring up the subject of the security committee before she left for Sera's. If he was even off the comm before she left. With a frown, she waved her hand in front of the closet sensor, letting out a low growl when the door stuck a finger away from the opposite side. "Can the girl not put _anything_ up?" she muttered, bending to retrieve the datapad that was blocking the door's progress.

Her husband was still in the meeting when she went to get dressed for lunch. She shook her head, wondering why it was going on so long – from what she was overhearing, it wasn't a very interesting meeting, or even a very pivotal subject.

Finally, as she was finishing organizing the desk in the sitting area, he signed off and stalked to the curved chair that Mierie preferred. She watched with concern when he sat with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I'll have to leave soon for the meeting – Commander Haffel seemed to want to keep us as long as possible. Of course I couldn't tell him why I was in a hurry-"

"Why not?"

"It's a secret committee."

"But isn't he involved-"

"No."

No? "But-"

"That fool would have been, had it not been for him ignoring obvious suspicious activities right under his command."

She froze. "Suspicious activities?"

"Now, Natrie, I really shouldn't-"

"What suspicious activities?" she pressed, tilting her head.

He shook his head. "I don't want you to worry…"

"Just tell me, darling." She forced a small smile to her face. "Or I'll worry even more."

He chuckled. "True enough," he said, then his face grew more serious. "There is a more urgent need for this security committee than the Admiral had expected, at first. We've reason to believe that one of our own officers is…" His face hardened. "A Rebel spy."

She didn't have to feign the horrified gasp. She swayed slightly, putting her hand out to grip the edge of the desk. The metallic surface was cool under her fingers, the sharp corner biting into her palm. She clung to the sensations, a steadiness that she needed at that moment. Finally, she found her voice. "That's… that's hard to believe. Who?"

"They're not certain who, exactly, but it's been narrowed down to three possibilities-"

"How?" The word burst from her before she could stop it, but to her relief, her husband didn't seem surprised by the interruption.

"The timing of some incidents, who was on duty." A small crease appeared between his brows. "It could be one or all three – my personal opinion is that it wouldn't make sense to install more than one spy in the same area, but we can't be certain."

"It's just so…. Who are the three?"

"Junior officers. Lieutenant Bala. Ensigns Jorin and Chireth."

"I don't know Ensign Chireth," she said, her mind working feverishly. She knew the other two, of course – they had both been to a number of the functions. She didn't know them well, but-

"He's fairly new. I have some suspicions that he could be the one. He's a bit too enthusiastic about the Empire…" He rubbed his chin, his expression thoughtful.

She gripped the desk harder, a sinking sensation tugging at her. "What will happen, once they're caught?"

"They'll be killed."

So matter-of-fact, so cold, so unemotional. No reluctance, no regret. _You knew this, Natrie. You knew the answer. Why did you ask the question?_

Then another thought occurred - what if she hadn't asked the first questions? What if she hadn't pressed? An icy snake slid down her spine. No one would know that a blaster was cocked and ready, pointing at the spy in the trenches. The ugliness of the term hit her, then, as the weight of this new knowledge threatened to crush her, and she suddenly appreciated Sera's insistence on the term 'informant'.

She was still reeling minutes later when her husband asked her to call a transport before heading to the bedroom to prepare for his committee meeting. She'd put up a token protest when he insisted that she take the speeder, but she was too distracted to offer more resistance. She remained outwardly calm when she notified the transport and slipped on her boots, but that surface layer of serenity was thin. Very thin.

Her mind swirled with emotion, tension threatening to overcome her, and she bit her lip as she waited for the transport to arrive. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't. There was too much at stake, too much on the line, too much for her to handle…

She was shaking, she realized, staring at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. If felt like they did – her mind was curiously blank, disconnected from the tension that caused her breathing to be so unsteady, and her hands to tremble. Not wishing to raise his suspicions, she pulled on her cloak and thrust her hands deep into the pockets, her timing eerily opportune – the transport arrived just after she'd put on the cloak.

Natrie was somehow able to force a smile to her face when he kissed her cheek, and she wished him luck with his meeting with a sincerity that surprised her. The mask she wore was heavy enough to hide her true feelings, but once he left the weight of the mask left with him, and she began to tremble once more as the transport took off. How quickly would the committee move? How quickly?

She was shaking so badly that she had to try twice to open the door. Her brain tried to make her nerves calm themselves, but emotion ignored logic, and still she shook. With great, gasping breaths, she rushed to the speeder and climbed in. Not wanting to waste any more time, she ignored the cold feeling in her stomach at the thought of piloting this craft and took off, hoping that no one got in her way.

The flight was a blur. Luckily there weren't many other craft on the back airways that she took to Sera's place, and she stayed low in the skies to avoid the higher-speed vehicles. Before she realized what she was doing, her hands were automatically maneuvering the controls to lower the speeder to the pad outside of the Saan home. The landing was uneven, but successful.

She almost tripped climbing out of the speeder, and her heart pounded as she hurried along the covered path leading from the landing pad to the private entrance. There must have been some sort of signal when she neared the entrance because, as soon as she reached the door, the panel leading inside slid open and Sera, wide-eyed, let her in.

"Natrie, are you all right?" The other woman's bright red cloak drew Natrie's gaze, and she stared at it, transfixed. So much energy in that color… so much danger….

"What's wrong?" The smooth, familiar voice was a welcome sound, and she almost gasped in relief. Tearing her eyes from Sera's cloak, she looked at the man who moved to stand in front of her, saw the concern in his gaze, and her trembling intensified.

"Vrindo! I can't do this. I can't-"

"Shh." Vrindo gripped her arms and looked over at Sera. "Sera, do you have any more of that-"

"Right away." Sera left in a swirl of color, her cloak flaring behind her as she exited the room.

His hands still firm around her arms, he stared down at her, studying her closely. "What happened? Did your husband find out-"

"No, no, not that. It's-" She took a deep, shuddering breath, and didn't protest when his arms snaked around her.

"Just relax. Wait a minute before you try to talk." His arms were warm, almost hot, and she pressed against him, trying to still her shivering. The impropriety of their position didn't hit her until Sera returned, and she almost pulled away. Before she could, Sera shook her head quickly and, without a word, set down a bottle and two glasses. Sending a soft glance towards Vrindo, Sera shook her head again and left the room.

"Natrie, tell me."

"I heard him slip… and I asked… and he told me… oh, Vrindo, what if I mess up? I can't do this. I can't. Someone could _die_."

She felt him go still, not even breathing, and then he slowly pulled back, keeping a tight grip on her arms. As if she was a bird, a scared little bird that might take flight at any moment. It wasn't far from the truth.

"What's happened, Natrie?"

"A spy, they know there's a spy. There were suspicious activities, he said, and I asked and asked…. It's either Lieutenant Bala or Ensign Cherith or Ensign Jorin, and they're going to find out, get evidence…" The story was incoherent, she knew, but Vrindo seemed to understand, his eyes darkening as she spoke. "It's one of them, they know it. One of the three."

"Natrie, how-"

"And it just hit me, now. What if I hadn't asked the right questions? What if I don't next time? It's too much… someone could die, someone-"

His eyes softened. "Relax, Natrie. You may have just _saved_ Bala's life."

So it was Lieutenant Bala. Natrie knew him, only on the periphery, but an image sprang immediately to her mind. Reddish hair, freckles. Young, unmarried. An enthusiastic recruit, he had worked his way to Lieutenant quickly. The facts were cold and plain, and did nothing to capture the man's true nature. Quiet, but with a ready smile. Shy. She could remember, at one event, how some of his colleagues had been teasing him for being one of the few bachelor officers, and he'd said he would work on the issue. What if she hadn't pressed her husband to tell her more? His death would have been on her head. Even with this information, it still might be too late. It was too much.

"But next time, what if I don't-"

"If you ask the wrong question, at least it's a question being asked. Without the question, they have no chance."

"I'm not supposed to question him so much-"

"Remember the truth, and the goal, and forget the false duties that you have been taught were yours."

She shook her head, her mind frozen. She'd been too long playing the obedient wife, too long wearing a mask of simpleness, that the mask seemed to have melded to her and slowed her ability to reason. 

"Here," he said, pressing a glass into her hand. "Drink."

She blinked. She hadn't even noticed him leave her side. "But-"

"_Drink_." He smiled slightly. "I'll take care of everything."

Obediently, she complied, wincing when the sickeningly sweet liquid touched her tongue. When she frowned at him, opening her mouth to speak, he shook his head and gestured for her to take another sip. Scowling, she did so, and it wasn't until after she'd swallowed the syrupy stuff that she realized she'd stopped trembling and her mind had cleared. 

"Better? I thought so. Have a seat," he said, touching her cheek lightly before stepping back and calling for Sera. The blonde entered immediately, and Natrie knew she'd been listening at the door. On any other occasion, it would have irritated her. "Sera, stay with her a moment. I have some comms to make."

He disappeared through another door, and she was left with Sera. The other woman stared at her evenly and then, without a word, poured another glass and handed it to her. "Drink."

"I'm fine, now."

"You're not." Sera's expression was durasteel and, rather than argue, Natrie took the drink from her. "I hope you were calm enough around your husband."

"Yes, I was." Natrie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Too much, maybe. After holding it in, I was… so wound up, when I saw you, it just-"

"When you saw Vrindo, you mean?"

Natrie looked at her and shook her head mutely, and Sera smirked. "Drink it." When Natrie complied, Sera continued, "Wound up. I suppose that makes sense. You're new to this, and I'll admit I didn't expect you to find out anything so… _heavy_… right at first."

"Not right at first. Yes." Natrie laughed dryly. "The timing's rather fortunate, really. The timing for when I joined, that is."

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly, she realized she hadn't told Vrindo about her husband's new appointment. She took another sip, swallowing slowly. "My husband's been appointed to a secret committee… a counter-spy group."

Sera's eyes gleamed and she sat forward. "He'll be part of the spyhunters?"

Natrie nodded. "It's how he knew about the three suspected spies."

Sera sat back, tapping her chin, a smile on her face. "Oh, my. And I thought he would follow the rules to the letter."

"What do you mean?"

"The good Lieutenant Commander certainly shouldn't have told anyone about this new committee – even his wife. I wouldn't have expected it of him." A look of pure delight came to Sera's face. "I'm so glad Vrindo took a shine to you, Natrie. So very glad."

Natrie swallowed, looking down at her glass, blinking when she realized she'd finished the drink. How many did that make? Two? Three? She glanced up at Sera and quickly looked away, unwilling to endure that speculative gaze for long. Could she keep doing this? Her reaction wasn't typical… or perhaps it was, since Sera did admit she hadn't expected Natrie to run into anything so 'heavy' this quickly. 

When Vrindo returned from the other room, Natrie quickly searched his expression for some sign of how his communications had gone. He appeared tense, but not frantic, and so she relaxed somewhat.

"Were you able to get through?" Sera queried, the tight grip she had on the arm of her chair belying the casual tone of her voice.

"Yes. It's under control."

"I'll update Oren later."

"Very good. And, like other husbands, he'll tell me _everything_."

Sera smirked at Natrie, and Vrindo followed her gaze. Shifting in her seat, uncomfortable under that dual regard, she cast her eyes around the room, finally focusing on the chronometer hung on a far wall. With a gasp, she read the time. "Oh! I've got to get Mierie, I'll just-" She leaned forward to place the drink on the table, absently noting that her hand was shaking again.

Sera watched her put the glass down, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think you're in a condition to pilot right now? Wait a few more minutes."

"I have to get her, I'm already late-"

"Where does her friend live?" Vrindo asked.

"Just past the Senate building-"

Sera frowned. "That's too far, and too busy."

"Much as I hate to admit it, Sera's right, you're still too shaky. I can take you to pick her up," Vrindo began, but Sera cut him off with a dry laugh.

"Oh, and _that_ won't look suspicious at all, now, would it? I'm sure Mierie is picked up all the time by strange men alone with her mother." Sera shook her head and rose. "I'll fly you there, and we can bring her back here for tea. It's a logical enough reason for me to pilot."

Natrie opened her mouth to protest, but Sera cut her off before she could even begin. "It will give you time to calm down before you fly home, and anyway, how realistic is it that your very best friend has never met your lovely daughter?" There was an unpleasant gleam in Sera's eye, and a marked emphasis on the words 'very best friend'.

Natrie bit her lip. She didn't want Mierie involved in this, even on the periphery, but she couldn't think of a valid excuse. Either way, Sera was right. She shouldn't fly.

"All right," she said, standing. "We can't be too long, though. I don't know when my husband will be done with the security committee meeting – they're discussing the 'suspicious activities'. He didn't know when it would be over, and he'll expect to have Mierie home by the time he returns. It could be over soon…."

"It could be. It could very well be," Vrindo murmured, one finger tapping his chin. "And Sera, you might want to change that garish cloak before you scare the poor girl on sight."

Sera rolled her eyes but left the room without a word, and Natrie smiled when Vrindo winked at her. Just his presence was a comfort; no ill could come, so long as Vrindo still bore a teasing smile, could it? She hesitated before asking the next question, but even though she knew it to be a futile reach for reassurance, she couldn't stop herself. "Is… is it really going to be all right? With Lieutenant Bala?"

"It could be. It could very well be," he repeated. Then he stood and smiled down at her, and she was reminded forcibly of the flirtatious smile that he had worn at the Admiral's function when they danced, and the warmth of his arms around her when she stumbled into Sera's home, flustered and frightened. Her breath caught when he stepped closer and touched her cheek. "Thank you, Natrie. I know it isn't easy, but it is important, what we do."

She nodded, unable to say more than, "It is." Luckily, that seemed to be enough.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her awesome beta help! I hope everyone enjoys the chapter :)

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Six  
-------------

"How did you meet the illustrious Lieutenant Commander, anyway?" Sera handled the speeder controls deftly, and her attention appeared to be focused on the skies around her, but Natrie had the feeling that every ounce of that awareness was actually centered on Natrie's answer. Normally, discussions concerning her husband would have caused her more agitation, but with her nerves still raw from the morning's revelation concerning Lieutenant Bala, she welcomed anything that would take her mind off of it. She didn't need Mierie to sense her nervousness.

"At a tribute dinner, for fallen heroes of the Clone Wars." Natrie sighed. "My father was being honored, and my mother wasn't able to attend, so I went in her stead."

"One of those 'please love the Empire' dinners that they held in the beginning?"

"Exactly." Natrie smiled wryly as the memory filled her mind. She could _smell_ the extravagant food, hear the subtle music, remember how awed she had felt, how small and insignificant and proud to be noticed by the amazing regalness of the Empire, even for one night. "And I fell for it. The dinner pretending to honor the fallen, the benevolent front, the beautiful hall…"

"And the charming young officer?"

Natrie chuckled, and she realized her hands had finally stopped their trembling. If nothing else, the conversation was a good distraction. "And the charming young officer, yes. We were seated all together, the guests and the military officers, at dozens of long tables. My father hadn't been important enough for me to sit with the higher-ranking officers."

"The Empire's funny that way."

"I've noticed. But at the time, I didn't think much of it. Anyway, he was a fairly new recruit, and I ended up seated right across from him." She had worn a new gown, one that her mother had chosen for her, and it was the most elegant thing she'd ever owned. She could remember practicing her walk in front of the tall mirror in her mother's room, finding just the right sway of hips and set of shoulders that looked alluring without looking coarse, and carefully committing the movements to memory.

"He's quite attractive. I can understand a young woman being fooled."

Natrie didn't answer. A fool was exactly what she had been; but he hadn't fooled her. From the very beginning, he had been upfront with her, had never pretended to be anything that he wasn't. She had let her own dreams and short-sightedness fool her into thinking he was the right one for her, had let the elegant surroundings fool her into believing that the Empire was something it wasn't. Yes, he had been himself, even then, but her youthful attraction had transformed what she saw into something else. He wasn't rigid and controlling, he was determined and protective; he certainly wasn't judgmental and righteous, but decisive and wise! The foolishness of youth.

"So," Sera began, her eyes intent on the sky around them. They had moved into the main traffic corridor - speeders and transports streamed by, above and below and to each side, and Natrie was thankful that Sera and Vrindo had talked her out of piloting herself, even if it meant a forced conversation with her 'new best friend'. "How much does Mierie know? About the Rebellion."

"Nothing… well, nothing about my involvement." Natrie gripped the metal handle attached to the side panel when Sera dipped suddenly under an open transport filled with Rhodians, and it took her a moment to regain her breath before she could continue. "We've talked about the Empire, and she knows the truth about the Jedi, and we've talked about the Rebellion. Just in general terms; I haven't told her anything about…."

"About your part in it?" Sera looked over at her, just for a heartbeat. "She'll suspect, if she's at all perceptive. What with the things you've told her already."

"She is… but she's young, yet. I don't think-" She stopped when Sera snorted, and she realized that it was a fool's hope. A chill wound its way through her stomach. "I'll be careful to keep it from her." _And to keep her far out of it._

"It doesn't matter, really. What happens, happens, and there's nothing you can do about it but be ready to react when it does." Sera smiled. "I've seen some of her credentials – Vrindo showed me a bit of his first cut. She'll be an asset to the Rebellion when she's older." There was no question in Sera's voice.

She shifted in the seat, wishing suddenly that Mierie's friend lived closer. "When did you get involved?" There was a long pause, and Natrie finally looked over at the other woman as the speeder slowed.

Sera's expression was unreadable. "In the beginning. In the very beginning."

---

The ride back wasn't nearly as harrowing as the ride there, since she gave up the front seat to Mierie and, of course, the topics of conversation were quite different. Mierie accepted the change of plans with the grace that was expected of her, introducing herself very politely and not uttering a word of complaint about possibly missing her favorite mystery program on the holonet. It would save automatically, of course, but Mierie preferred to watch the initial showing.

Sera was at her most charming, and soon she and Mierie were caught up in a discussion of her classes and schoolmates. As they continued to speak, Mierie loosened up, and soon it was as if she was speaking to a girlfriend.

When they reached Sera's home, Vrindo's blue speeder was gone. Natrie relaxed as she sipped the tea Sera handed her, listening to the animated voice of her daughter compete with Sera's richer tones. When Vrindo and Oren appeared in the doorway, Natrie was settled enough to give them a genuine smile. It was a relief that the two men also appeared calm; surely, if something dreadful were imminent, they wouldn't wear such easy smiles.

"And who is this lovely lady?" Oren said, dark eyes sparkling as he entered the room. Mierie's breath hitched and Natrie suppressed a small smile - Oren was quite attractive, and would easily catch the fancy of a young woman.

"This is my daughter Mierie. Mierie, this is Lieutenant Saan-"

"Oren is perfectly acceptable, when I'm off duty. Lieutenant Saan sounds so stuffy." Oren winked at her. "Just don't let your father hear you say it – he's a bit of a stickler for the rules."

_A bit._ Natrie shook her head as Mierie giggled.

"And this is my brother, Vrindo Larzin," Sera said, waving a hand at Vrindo. Mierie's eyes went wide as the name struck home.

"But, you're the-"

"Holonet reporter, yes." He smiled at Mierie's expression. "Much to my mother's dismay - she wanted me to be a scientist of some sort. But I wasn't quite as intelligent as I understand you are, so that didn't quite work out."

"You're the one that interviewed Mom!"

"And will interview your father this evening." Vrindo smiled and took off his cloak, palming the closet door open. When a large multi-leveled crystal game board was exposed on the upper shelf, Mierie gasped.

"A stones and crystal game!" Mierie stared at the closet with pure reverence. They had a smaller set at home, but the full-sized game was quite different, and more challenging. Mierie had wanted one for months.

"You play?" Oren asked.

"I've played one at Tiria's - she's my friend." Mierie tilted her head. "Why's it in the closet?"

Sera smirked. "He put it away because I kept beating him."

"Funny, I thought I put it away because it takes up too much room, according to a certain yellow-haired woman sitting on that chair." Oren smiled at his wife fondly, and Natrie felt that bite of jealousy once again. They seemed so well-suited and happy with each other… what she had always thought marriage ought to be. "We'll have to play some time."

Natrie smiled at the excited look on her daughter's face. "We'll do that, but not right now - we ought to get home. Your father's coming home soon, and it's a homework night, besides."

Mierie frowned but quickly straightened her expression. "All right. Thank you, Sera, for the tea. It was nice meeting you all." _Sera?_ Natrie lifted an eyebrow and stared at her daughter. Sera glanced at her before turning back to Mierie.

"Thank you for _not_ calling me Mrs. Saan. It's so… old-sounding. And come over any time, Mierie." Sera's voice was mild, but her gaze bordered on predatory, and Natrie sensed a thin feeling of disquiet. _She'll be an asset to the Rebellion when she's older._

Vrindo walked them to their speeder, for once not igniting a smokestick as they strolled outside, and Natrie had to assume it was Mierie's presence which forestalled that particular habit. She smiled slightly at the gesture.

"I'll be over later this evening to talk to your husband. In fact, if it's acceptable, I'd like to speak with Mierie, also."

Natrie froze, this time less concerned with her husband's reaction than with her own reaction. "We don't want her-"

"I won't show her image if you object, of course. But she is mentioned during the interviews with you, so a word or two from her might be a good addition."

"I'm not sure-"

"Mom, _please_," Mierie asked, her eyes wide.

The breeze shifted, blowing Natrie's long hair across her face, and she took her time forcing it back behind her shoulders, stalling. Finally, she settled on the tried-and-true avoidance response. "We'll ask your father."

"That's as good as saying no." Mierie appeared perilously close to _pouting_, which shocked Natrie. It wasn't a normal reaction for her daughter, and it certainly wasn't something Natrie would tolerate in a girl her age.

"And if you continue on this way, maybe _I'll_ just say no right now."

Mierie had the presence of mind to look properly abashed – whether she felt it or not was anyone's guess. "I'm sorry, Mom. I just want to so much-"

"We'll see."

Vrindo winked at Mierie. "Yes, we'll see what your father thinks this evening. Even if you're too young now, you won't be forever. And if you're still interested in the holonet when you're older, you can always look me up."

That seemed to cheer Mierie a bit, and with one last farewell, they climbed into their speeder and headed home.

As expected, her husband dashed Mierie's hopes of stardom when the subject was broached, for which Natrie was relieved. She wasn't comfortable with the idea of Mierie's face appearing in holonet projectors across the galaxy, held up as some sort of symbol of the Empire. Also, as expected, her daughter didn't bother trying to argue with _him_, though as she headed to her room to start her homework, she sent at least a half-dozen woeful glances at her father.

When Vrindo appeared at the door, her husband answered it and welcomed him in, that public relations mask – with its false smile – firmly in place. Vrindo's smile seemed more sincere, though there was a tension around his eyes that only someone who knew him well - or studied his face often - would notice.

Natrie busied herself in the kitchen, preparing drinks, but listened closely as Vrindo and her husband settled in the sitting room. Vrindo was a natural at socializing, automatically adjusting his demeanor and conversation to the audience. The discussion meandered through a variety of topics: the Emperor's new projects, the glory of a Star Destroyer in the light of twin suns, and the speed at which her husband had moved through the ranks. 

When she finished setting everything on the tray and walked out to serve the drinks, she she heard Vrindo laugh at a rather flat joke. The laugh was different from the free, open laugh she was used to hearing – the laugh itself was actually genuine, it was the subject of his humor that was the deception; he was laughing _at_ her husband, not with him. Her first reaction was to smile, though a thin feeling of guilt slid its way into her as she set the tray down. It was silly to feel even a shred of guilt, to be sure, but he was her husband, the father of her child, and she shouldn't be enjoying this. Nor should she be using him to bring down the Empire he so loved.

Then Vrindo looked up at her, and smiled his thanks, and the words he'd said earlier slid their way into her mind. _Remember the truth, and the goal, and forget the false duties that you have been taught were yours._ Taking a deep breath, she smiled back at him before turning to her husband. "Just let me know if you need anything else." At his nod, she made herself scarce.

She ducked in and out of the room, straightening things in the kitchen, checking on Mierie, picking up clothes that needed freshening. As she passed through the sitting room an hour later, she wondered how Vrindo could keep that interested expression on his face while her husband listed his achievements and the line-by-line history of his career. Perhaps Vrindo, too, had studied acting in school. Shaking her head, she left again to check on Mierie, this time admonishing her to finish her homework and put away the portable holonet viewer.

When Natrie returned to the sitting room, she heard her husband speaking. "No, I'll see you out-"

"Honestly, there's no need to keep them waiting - I can let myself out. Thank you again for your time." 

Glancing at the comm unit against the wall, she saw the blinking Imperial emblem on the screen, and knew her husband was being called. Her stomach tightened until she recognized the symbol of her husband's superior officer in the lower right corner - he wasn't involved in the investigation, or the security committee, and so it couldn't involve the situation with Lieutenant Bala. Breathing easier, she smiled.

"Go ahead and answer that, darling, I'll walk him out."

With a nod, her husband shook Vrindo's hand and then headed for the comm. Vrindo gathered his things and, with a polite smile, Natrie led him to the front door and out onto the landing pad. As soon as the door swished shut behind them, Vrindo turned to her.

Keeping her face casual, she whispered, "It's his commanding officer. He's not on the committee, wasn't even invited to join."

Vrindo nodded. "He's concerned about you."

Natrie blinked. "What?"

"Your husband. When you left to see to Mierie, he asked me to keep an eye out – and an ear out – for anything that could be suspicious. In particular, anything surrounding you and Mierie." He set his face into a stern expression, and mimicked her husband's voice with a frightening accuracy. "Reporter types do seem to hear things before other people do."

"But, why would we be in any danger?"

Vrindo let a slow smile cross his face, and Natrie's confusion grew. "Oh, a little bird might have put the idea in his head. Rumors, you see, about the Rebel Alliance's ruthless tactics and increasing activity…"

"Oh, my…" She smiled, despite herself. Ruthless tactics; it was almost laughable.

"Exactly. He might let more information about their investigations slip when he speaks to you - forewarned is forearmed, and all that military jargon." He winked at her when she laughed. "And, as things get more intense, I don't think he'll object if you happen to find yourself escorted from place to place by Oren or myself. I know how much you hate flying…"

Her smile faltered. "As things get more intense?"

Vrindo shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was very low. "Distractions only, here in the capital. We don't dare try anything more so close to the center, but if it keeps their eyes here instead of where the true activities are going on…."

"But…." 

"Don't worry, Natrie. Things are just in the planning stages." He stared at her, his gaze so intimate that it felt like a physical touch. "And you're protected - you and Mierie - even when you don't realize it."

---

The next weeks passed without incident, and she relaxed as routine asserted itself. Her husband continued to attend the special committee meetings in addition to his regular duties – sometimes the meetings were held over the comm, but more often they were at various locations across the Imperial Center.

As the days passed without any progress, her husband's frustration was palpable, and she was relieved that their investigation seemed to be hitting a rock wall. As his frustration built, he vented to her more often; she found that even without pressing she was able to gather intelligence that could be useful to the Rebellion. To Vrindo. Nothing so groundbreaking as the news about Lieutenant Bala, but useful nonetheless.

She visited Sera once or twice a week, often bringing Mierie when she wasn't in classes and when there wasn't anything to report. It was, as Sera pointed out, a natural thing to do, and the more natural she could keep things on the surface, the better. Mierie seemed to enjoy the visits, though she carried herself in an increasingly adult manner during the visits, playing the part of the young lady more than Natrie was comfortable with.

Vrindo was sometimes in attendance, but not always, and Natrie worried at the spark of excitement that flew through her when she spotted the familiar blue speeder. When Oren was off duty, he would occasionally challenge Mierie to a game of stones and crystals, and Natrie had to hide a smile when she noticed Mierie sneaking glances at the handsome man through the intricate gameboard.

For the most part, things were stable. A few weeks after the news of Lieutenant Bala had reached her ears, Natrie sat curled on the couch, engrossed in a novel that Vrindo had recommended. Mierie was out, spending the night at a friend's home, and her husband was in a late meeting. The datapad glowed in the dim room, and she was so involved in the story that she didn't notice her husband come in until he spoke. 

"Natrie? Why are you sitting here in the dark?" The lights beamed on, harsh after the comforting glow she'd had them set at, and she blinked.

"I was just reading." _And I'd like to continue reading, if it's the same to you._ One more smart comment that went unsaid.

"Well, I'm home now." 

She gritted her teeth, keeping the datapad firmly in her grasp. It was as though all activities other than attending to him were just a stopgap, something to hold her over until he returned once again.

"We've been invited to another event, at Captain Decker's. It's nothing large, but he mentioned that there might be dancing, again." Her husband didn't sound overjoyed at the prospect, but Natrie was pleased with the news. She lowered the datapad and smiled, reminding herself of her duty.

"He seemed to have a good time at the Admiral's event. I guess that gave him the idea."

"Perhaps." He sat next to her on the couch and, with a slight frown, pulled the datapad from her hands. She withheld her protest at the imperious gesture; it wasn't worth an argument. "You'll need to make arrangements for Mierie."

"She asked about going without a sitter, this next time. And I know some of the others leave their older children home alone, but with it being so late at night… I don't know."

"If they wish to be fools, it's on their heads. Mierie will not be here alone, especially now, with those Rebels showing themselves more and more."

Natrie nodded. It seemed Vrindo's hints were working on him already. "I'll contact a sitter, then."

"Not that one from last time."

"Why not? Freya is a sweet old–"

"Because I say not, Natrie." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and she could see the line of muscles tense along his back. "Do you know what Mierie said to me?"

"What?"

"She was in a mood-" Natrie nodded; Mierie had been having many such moods lately, and Natrie suspected that the teenage years weren't going to spare them as she'd once hoped. "And she snapped at me, something about the Emperor not knowing everything, or not telling everything he knows, or some such nonsense."

"Oh… my…" Natrie's heart froze in her chest as her husband turned to her.

"Someone's filling her head with it, and I have a suspicion it was that sitter."

"Freya? But that's…" _Be careful, Natrie._ "You don't think it might be someone in her classes?"

He snorted. "Nonsense. I studied that academy very closely before enrolling her." It was the truth, and she knew that proceeding down that line wouldn't be fruitful. Her mind raced, but she could think of no other options that would be believable.

"But, Freya is just an old woman… oh, darling, you're not going to…" Her voice caught, and she had to blink rapidly.

Her husband looked at her, and his eyes were cold. She knew why – it wasn't a question she should have asked; she shouldn't _care_ about the fate of a possible Rebel sympathizer. Summoning an appropriately apologetic expression, she shrugged. "I… I know she would deserve it, but…"

His face cleared and he reached out to stroke her hair, smoothing it over her shoulder. "Ah, Natrie. I don't know how I keep forgetting that soft heart of yours." He stared down at her, a condescending fondness in his expression, and she realized that – this time – the look didn't infuriate her. It relieved her. Better a favored pet than a Rebel sympathizer.

There was safety in condescension.

"I'm sure it was just a comment or two taken out of context, and you know Mierie with those mystery programs she keeps watching on the holonet…"

"I'll need to keep an eye on that, actually. That time could be better spent working on useful things." He pulled one lock of her hair through his fingers. "Even if it was just a comment or two, I really should say something about this, but-"

A sudden thought hit her, and she gasped, reaching up to grip his hand. "Mierie! If you said something, they'd look at her, suspect her-"

He jerked his hand from her grasp, and shook his head. His expression this time was that of one explaining something to a rather dull child. "That's the only reason I'm not saying anything, Natrie."

So that would be enough to keep him from talking. The fact that she felt surprise at his words was a sad commentary on how she viewed him. She had honestly wondered which he would place first – career or his own family. Luckily, this challenge was fairly simple - he had no solid proof, only conjecture, and an old woman like Freya would hardly be a huge threat to the Empire. His own flesh and blood would certainly rival any accolades he might receive for something that small.

Of course, Natrie herself wasn't of his flesh and blood - the thought was a sobering one. Would he hesitate, if he found something that exposed her own duplicity? She honestly didn't know. She needed to be careful.

And she needed to speak to Mierie.

The next day, she took Mierie to the park, or what served as a park on this planet of cities. It was indoors, but one would never know it – each large area was constructed to give the feeling of outdoors, and a vast outdoors. The holographic scenes on the walls made it seem as if the park stretched on for eternity. Mountains and hillsides surrounded them, lush greenery lay under their feet, and flora from hundreds of planets and dozens of systems flourished in the bright, artificial sunlight.

It was quiet, and had a number of private niches surrounded by thick foliage, which was the most important thing. Her husband was in one of his conferences, so there was no danger that he would volunteer to accompany them. There was, however, every danger that he would walk into Mierie's bedroom were they to speak there, and Natrie couldn't risk that. Not with this conversation.

Mierie walked beside her, eyes studying everything that they passed, at times making comments about the habits of certain flora in their natural environments. "This is beautiful, but it's just not _real_," Mierie muttered, touching one large blossom. "This stone lily would never bloom next to an evenstar blossom."

"Of course not, they come from different planets."

Her daughter shook her head and spared her a glance that bordered on disdain. "No, Mom. That's not it – well, that's not _all_. The plants use different chemicals from the soil – the hillsides on Alderaan have stones that leech certain chemicals into the surrounding soil. That's why stone lilies only grow in the hills, there. The evenstar usually grows near pools and lakes on Chandrila."

"You know a lot."

"I used to think so. But now, every time I learn more about something, I realize how much I don't know."

Natrie looked at her daughter, at the young woman beside her, and it struck her again just how much she'd grown and matured. Mierie's personality was like a pendulum, swinging between childhood and adulthood, and Natrie never knew which would appear from one moment to the next.

"Many things are like that," Natrie said, wondering how to bring up the topic of Freya, and Mierie's loose tongue. Luckily, Mierie gave her an opening.

"Like the Empire – the surface seems so perfect, but then you look underneath, and it's…"

"Beautiful, but it's just not _real_," Natrie said in a low voice, repeating Mierie's words from earlier. Mierie clearly caught the reference, and smiled slightly.

"Yeah."

"It's important for others to think you believe. Your words can cause more damage than I think you understand."

Mierie let out a breath. "He told you, didn't he?"

"He did."

"I just… I'm sorry, Mom, I just couldn't keep quiet!"

"You have to, Mierie," Natrie said, her tone harder than the rocks that gave life to the stone lilies. "You have no idea what could have happened-"

"Father wouldn't do anything to me, Mom."

Natrie gritted her teeth, scrabbling at calmness. Her daughter could be so perceptive at times, and so very obtuse at other times! "Not to _you_, Mierie! Think about other people for a half a second."

"He wouldn't do anything to you…" Mierie frowned and bit her lip. When her voice came again, it was very small, and Natrie's heart broke. "Would he?"

Natrie didn't answer at first, just reached out and brushed one heavy stone lily petal with her forefinger, thinking about Captain Neroon, and Suni, and her husband's reaction. Finally, she looked at Mierie, and saw the distress on her daughter's face. The maternal desire to give comfort warred with the need to be honest. Mierie was maturing, and part of that maturation was to see things without blinders on, even her own father. With a sigh, she shook her head. "I don't know. I honestly don't."

"But-"

"Let's just leave it at that, sweetling." Natrie touched the stone lily one more time before pulling her hand back. "He thinks Freya was the one who filled your head with the 'nonsense'."

"Freya?" 

"Yes." Natrie let out a breath. "He agreed not to say anything about his suspicions, though he certainly could. The only thing holding him back is that it might bring unwelcome attention on _you_."

"But… she didn't do anything! She didn't tell me… couldn't I just let him know it wasn't her?"

"And who would you say _did_ bring these thoughts to your head?"

"Why would it have to be anyone? Why couldn't I have just figured it out-"

"It'd be near impossible for a young woman who had no memory of the events themselves to see or hear anything other than the Empire's preferred version." Natrie reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Mierie's ear. "Let's keep moving." Taking her daughter's arm, Natrie walked along the path, listening for others about. The park was large enough that they could find solitude, but remaining in one place for too long might bring curious ears near.

As they strolled through the taller leafy plants – most from the Outer Rim territories – she said, "Suspicions would then go to me, your schoolmates, teachers… anyone. Parents of your friends, even."

"And that would mean…." Mierie blinked rapidly. "Would he really? Turn them in, just on the basis of some words?"

"Those are his orders. It's what's expected of him, of any Imperial officer." Natrie stopped and looked at Mierie, and saw her daughter's pale face.

"Why? Why is he like that?"

"Your father is… he loves you very much." Natrie's mind raced. How to explain, without making him seem a monster? He wasn't the monster, not in truth – he just supported and followed and did whatever the monster demanded. Which, perhaps, _did_ make him a monster…. "But he has a very set way of viewing the universe, and anything that doesn't match that set view is automatically wrong. He doesn't question, and doesn't believe others should, either."

"But if we don't question, and just follow orders blindly, we're no better than droids!"

Natrie smiled, then. She could see her grandmother's features superimposed on Mierie's young face, and it warmed her. "Exactly what your great-grandmother once told me." Then her smile faded. "The Empire is very concerned about the Rebellion. To the point where…." She hesitated. Would Mierie slip up again? She didn't think so, but the risk-

"Mom?" Mierie took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything to him again, I was just… I thought maybe if I could ask him… but I won't. Not again."

Natrie stared at her daughter, then nodded. Mierie already knew so much, as it was, that one more secret shouldn't overburden her. "You might have noticed your father around more often, at home-"

"On those conference things."

"Exactly. This is very secret, darling, so don't repeat it to anyone, even your father." _Especially your father._ Natrie glanced around and then continued walking, moving closer to Mierie as she did, so that her low voice could be heard. "He's been appointed to a special committee that's investigating the presence of Rebel spies in the Imperial ranks."

"Oh." Mierie grasped the implications immediately. "So if he suspects anything about anyone… he's under even more obligation to turn them in, isn't he?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, Mom. I didn't know! What's going to happen to Freya?"

"Nothing." Natrie stroked Mierie's arm, concerned by the tension in the muscles. "I spoke to him about it, and insinuated that an over-active imagination on your part and a few misconstrued comments on her part was all that prompted your little outburst."

"Are you sure he won't-"

"I'm as sure as I can be, Mierie. As it is, she won't be watching you in the evenings anymore."

"But I really liked her!"

"That should have crossed your mind before you decided to indulge in your little fit of pique," Natrie murmured, squeezing Mierie's arm. 

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know you are. This time, there was no real harm done. Just don't let it happen again, because that might not be the case the next time."

When they returned home a little while later, her husband had already left for the afternoon meeting, which surprised her. It was at least two hours earlier than normal, and when she saw the message on the comm unit letting her know they called the meeting early, she felt a thread of disquiet wind its way through her. Why would they call everyone early, unless they had found something?

It was difficult to hide her worry from Mierie, and as afternoon turned into evening, she became more agitated. In hopes that Mierie's addiction to those mystery programs would keep her from noticing her mother's distress, Natrie allowed her to watch several in a row despite the earlier conversation with her husband.

Finally, Natrie turned off the holonet projector. "Go on to bed, Mierie. It looks like your father won't be home any time soon."

Mierie looked rebellious, but she still stood. "I don't know why I have to have a bedtime, still. No one else I know-"

"No one else you know is my daughter. And, unless I miss my mark completely, you spent most of last night giggling and talking with Tiria instead of sleeping."

"Yeah, yeah." Mierie muttered some additional words under her breath, but wisely didn't voice them. Natrie didn't call her on it; she knew Mierie was exhausted – it was pride alone that had kept her up this long.

"Go, go." Natrie shooed her to her room, and with a small grin, Mierie complied. Once she was in bed - asleep moments after putting her head down - Natrie poured herself a glass of wine and walked out to the balcony. She needed something to calm her nerves, and the night air and a smooth wine seemed to be the best combination.

She leaned against the railing, watching the speeders and transports zip by, trying to keep her mind blank. But when a dark blue speeder passed, she couldn't stop her thoughts from centering on Vrindo, and the Rebellion, and what might be occurring in that meeting. Surely they couldn't be sitting in a conference room this long? She bit her lip, realizing that the alternative wasn't any better - if they were on an active investigation, rather than a meeting… they had found something. But what?

She was pulled from her ruminations when her husband suddenly appeared behind her. She turned, but before she could even greet him, he had taken the wine glass from her hand and pulled her close, kissing her soundly. Shock lanced through her - shock and fear - he wasn't known for any sort of spontaneity, unless something particularly wonderful had happened.

And his idea of something wonderful was quite different from hers.

She set a smile on her lips when he pulled back, studying what she could see of his face. "What's happened?"

"There's been a breakthrough."

"A breakthrough?"

"The Rebel spy - the one I told you about - has been caught." 

Natrie barely withheld her gasp, and was once again grateful for her time studying acting as a teenager. "They caught him?"

"_I_," he said, with a particular emphasis on the word, "caught him. I had a suspicion, all along, that it was Ensign Chireth. You remember my telling you that, don't you?" The jubilation in his expression was impossible to describe.

She put a hand on the railing to steady herself, the relief overwhelming for a moment. Just a moment. Then confusion threaded its way into her mind. Frowning, she said, "Ensign Chireth? But… I mean, how did you know-"

"I found some evidence."

"What-"

"Transmissions made to him from a known area of Rebel activity."

She nodded, numb. It wasn't real. It wasn't. Transmissions…. She wanted to scream that they had the wrong man, but she knew she couldn't, not without implicating Lieutenant Bala. And herself. "So he's been captured?"

Her husband pulled her close again and kissed her neck, his breath burning against her skin as he whispered, "He's been executed."


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: My apologies for the tardiness of this chapter - real life hit in a big way. Hope you enjoy the chapter! Many thanks to Buttercup for the awesome beta services.

_**The Dutiful Wife**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Seven  
-----------------

The chronometer moved slowly.

Hours after she received the news about Ensign Chireth, Natrie lay wide awake beside her slumbering husband. Every time she attempted to sleep, the memory of their conversation reared, and her eyes sprang open to stare at the timepiece on the wall. Ensign Chireth. She feigned sleep when her husband turned over and mumbled something, and then she sighed when his breathing grew slow and even once more. _She_ had given the names to the Rebels; _she_ had shone the target on the young man's head.

She turned over, wiping beaded sweat from her forehead. Though she tried, it proved impossible to ignore the chronometer's mocking stare. One hour until dawn, and six hours until her lunch appointment with Sera. She could make it until then. She just had to go through the motions: see Mierie off to her classes, see her husband off to the string of meetings that he told her had been scheduled, and then survive until lunchtime. She could do it. She could.

She repeated that to herself, trying to drown out the memory of her husband's voice. _He's been executed._

Six hours.

She could make it.

---

A few hours later, as she and her husband prepared for their appointments, she wasn't so certain. She stared at the holoprojector, each word from the reporter piercing her flesh like tiny needles.

_"…after the tragic loss of three stormtroopers and an Imperial officer, Ensign Chireth, the Imperial Navy has vowed to increase their work against the small group of insurgents that reportedly call themselves the Rebel Alliance-" _

Despite her attempt at casual indifference, she couldn't stop from flinching. Her husband crossed in front of her, blocking her view, and with a flick of his wrist he cut the power to the broadcast. She swallowed and stared at the spot in midair which had, just a moment before, held the form of a solemn-faced HoloNet reporter.

"Rebel activity? That's a clever way to put it." _A clever way to lie. _

Natrie couldn't see her husband's face as he headed to the closet, but she could imagine his expression all too well. "It would be unwise to tell the full truth," he said.

"I suppose so." She fiddled with her comb, plucking at the thick tines with a fingernail. "This is much easier for his family, I'm sure."

"The shame would be impossible to overcome," he said, "_if_ they're loyal. We're watching them closely, of course."

Her head snapped up. "Watching-"

"To see if they attempt any contacts." He paused to pull the undershirt over his head – he would never speak when his voice might be muffled. Precision, always. "It's possible he didn't work alone."

Her hand holding the comb faltered. Now Ensign Chireth's family was under watch, because of her. Her logical side sternly reminded her that Lieutenant Bala's family would have been watched, also, and they were more likely to be Rebel sympathizers than Ensign Chireth's family. The reminder did not offer much comfort.

Deliberately, she set down the comb. "I'd better send a call to the transport, if I'm to make Sera's on time."

"Take the speeder."

"Darling, you know I don't like piloting-"

"I insist. In fact, I was thinking of getting a second one."

"A second one?" She stared at him. Speeders were expensive, and he'd never mentioned it before. "Why?"

"It's safer for you to have your own transportation."

"But you caught the spy-"

"It would be beyond logic to think all threat is ended, just because we found one spy. There are doubtless more, and…" His voice trailed off, an unusual thing for him, and she inspected his face. He was tense. More than normal.

"And what?"

He frowned. "There might be attacks. I don't want you targeted."

"Me? Why would I be targeted?"

"You don't understand how vicious these people can be, Natrie. If one of them heard that I was on this committee, or – Natrie, you don't understand how ruthless, how mindless these people can be! Just being recognized as a military family member could be enough." He pulled on his uniform jacket, straightening it with a clean snap.

_You don't understand how vicious these people can be_. She shook, the sentence repeating itself in her head – that sentence, along with the one that had haunted her since the night before. _He's been executed._ Oh, she knew how vicious they could be. She knew.

He spoke again before she could formulate a response. "It's not just your safety, Natrie. Or did you forget that Mierie will need to be collected later, while I'm in my meetings? Neither one of you will take public transport. It's not safe."

"But, darling-"

"I don't want outsiders knowing your movements." Suddenly, he stopped, and the very fact that he'd started to explain himself spoke volumes on just how concerned he really was. "I'm not discussing this with you any longer, Natrie. Why you feel the need to challenge my every request-"

Request? Order, more like. Despite her impulse to argue further, she knew what she needed to do. "I'm sorry, darling, I'm just… I'm worried about you." She turned away from him and bit her lip, knowing he could see her face reflected in the mirror. Artfully, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath. "If they want revenge, wouldn't they target _you_? I couldn't… I couldn't bear it, if…."

"Ah, Natrie." As expected, she heard him approach, felt his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about me. You forget one very important difference between us: I'm armed. You're not." 

Catching an odd tone in his voice, she opened her eyes and met his piercing gaze in the mirror. With a squeeze of her shoulders, he added, "Not yet."

"Not yet… what are you saying?"

"I'm getting you a blaste-"

"No!" The bile rose in her throat. "I won't use it."

"There are smaller models that would suit you." Another squeeze to her shoulder, and somehow she held back from jerking away. "I'll feel better when you're carrying it, Natrie."

When, not if. The memory of another man's voice slid into her mind: _We aren't looking to you to hold a blaster pistol._ A delicious contradiction - the Rebels didn't ask it of her, but now the Empire did. _Demanded_ it of her. Setting her jaw in a tight line, she said, "You'd feel better, even though I'd never use it?"

"It's final." He stepped back from her and straightened his already-precise uniform. "I'll bring one home today. And you _will_ take the speeder, if you wish to leave this apartment."

She turned to protest again, but she stopped when she took a good look at his face. "All right, darling. I'll take the speeder."

The cold melted from his face at her acquiescence and he moved to her, stroking her cheek. "Have a good time with Sera."

Wordlessly, she nodded, and accepted his precise kiss with a tight smile.

A short time later, she found herself carefully navigating the tall spires of Coruscant, cursing her husband for his stubbornness. Cursing the Rebellion for their role in a young man's death. Cursing herself. She rehearsed, over and again, the speech she needed to make. She wouldn't be thwarted this time.

This wasn't the first time she'd piloted herself to Sera's house with her emotions in her throat, but this time they hung over her like a heavy drape of velvet. There was no frantic rush this time, just a dreadful pull of guilt and grief.

Soon enough, the landing pad outside of the Saan's home came into sight. She noted the presence of Vrindo's speeder with relief, which surprised her. He was, after all, the one who had brought her into all of this. Who had made her a killer by proxy. And yet, a part of her couldn't wait to see him, to talk to him, to let him tell her it was all a mistake….

Cursing herself again, she threw open the hatch of the speeder and headed to the doorway.

Sera smiled widely when she greeted Natrie, but Natrie ignored her, her attention on the man rising from his seat on the overstuffed couch. Vrindo. She stepped towards him, shaking, her fists clenched. A bitter anger grew, replacing the cocktail of guilt and shame that had swirled within her since she'd heard the words from her husband's lips. _He's been executed._ That voice had held such a casual tone, to speak words with such a dreadful finality. And the two people in front of her were just as casual about the work they did.

All her carefully constructed statements flew out of her mind, and with a sort of horror she heard herself exclaim, "You had him killed!" She took a step back when Vrindo approached. "No, not even you. Me. _I_ killed him. I killed him. Because of me, Ensign Chi-"

"Because of you, Lieutenant Bala is alive."

"And because of me, Ensign Chireth is dead! An innocent man-"

Sera's snort drew Natrie's attention. The blonde's face held a half-smile, and one eyebrow was raised. "Innocent? He was an _Imperial soldier_, Natrie. How innocent could he be?" Natrie looked away, her stomach tight.

Vrindo stopped his sister with a sharp gesture. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed, and then turned back to Natrie. "Why don't we all sit down and talk this through." He held a hand out, an entreaty, and after a moment's hesitation she allowed him to guide her to the couch, his skin warm against her cold fingers. He did not release her hand as they sat.

"Natrie, I know it's hard, but try to focus on the positive. You saved someone's life."

"By murdering another!" She snatched her hand away. "You… you put just as much spin on things as the Empire does!

He sighed, but did not bother to deny her accusation. "This is a war, Natrie. People will die."

"I know… I knew that…" _Did she?_ "But…." A war. She should have known – she _had_ known, she just hadn't allowed herself to admit it. It was exciting to be a spy, like a mystery program on the holonet, but it was also _real_.

And real people were dying.

"But what?" His voice was gentle, and when he took her hand again she didn't pull away.

Before she could answer, Sera broke in, her face no longer smiling. "Would you rather it be one of us that was killed? One of ours?"

Natrie shook her head, her thoughts in a jumble. "Why does it have to be anyone?"

Sera snorted and stood. "Oh, for the love of…. How can you be so naïve?"

"Sera," Vrindo began, but Sera cut him off and turned on Natrie.

"Do you think they'd hesitate? Did they hesitate when they slaughtered the entire Jedi Temple, not even caring if everyone was involved or not-"

"Sera, this isn't helpi-"

"Coddling doesn't help her either, Vrindo!" Sera snapped without taking her eyes from Natrie's. As Sera's voice increased in volume, Natrie's gaze was caught and held by the fire in the other woman's expression. "Did they hesitate, did they _care_, when they gunned down Suni Neroon? For the horrible crime of trying to leave a cold, supercilious bastard of a husba-"

"Sera!" Vrindo shouted. "That's _enough_."

Sera stopped, but her jaw was set tight as she glared at Natrie. Cold snaked through Natrie's belly, the cold of truth, but she didn't break eye contact. Finally, Sera released Natrie's gaze and, with a final venomous look at Vrindo, stalked from the room. As she passed Natrie, she stopped long enough to hiss, "Welcome to the real world, little girl."

The words burned more than she'd ever admit. Naïve. _Simple_. Words she'd heard before, but from another's mouth. A mouth she now hated.

After Sera left the room, Vrindo was the first to break the silence. "I apologize for Sera."

"It's not for you to do." Suddenly, the intimacy of their position hit her, and she gently pulled her hand from his touch.

"Maybe not, but I still feel like I should." He watched her closely, and she summoned a small smile.

"Thank you."

He nodded; they both knew it was the only apology she'd receive. She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment Sera burst back into the room. They watched her in silence as she smacked the panel that opened the closet door and yanked Vrindo's cloak from within.

"Would you like to borrow my cloak?"

"You two have your cozy little talk. Explain the facts of life to her, Vrindo - I don't have the patience. I'm going for a flight."

"In my speeder, I presume?"

Sera shoved her hair back into the hood, inspecting herself in the mirror before pulling the hood even farther over her head. "I'm you, if anyone's watching."

"Walk like a man!" Vrindo called out as Sera left, and Natrie saw him smile slightly at the rude gesture his sister threw in his direction.

She would never understand the dynamic between those two. "You're letting her take your speeder?"

"It's replaceable. And she's a good pilot." Vrindo shrugged. "It's best to let her blow off steam. She's been under a great deal of stress, lately, and this-" He waved a hand between himself and Natrie "-is just one more thing."

"She really doesn't understand why I'm upset by Ensign Chireth, does she?"

Suddenly sober, he looked down at his hands, pausing a moment before answering. "She doesn't. She sees only the goal, not who is hurt along the way." In a low voice, he added, "I almost envy her that."

Natrie looked at him. Vrindo, at least, seemed to understand the gravity of what had happened. While she might be naïve, as Sera believed, something like this should affect anyone - anyone with an ounce of conscience. _She sees only the goal_. "The Emperor only saw the goal, also."

Vrindo remained silent, his face pensive. Slowly, he nodded. "It might seem that way…." With a heavy sigh, he sat back, his long torso collapsing against the cushions. "I'm just glad she's on our side. She'll do whatever needs to be done, to further the cause."

"Without a pesky conscience getting in her way," Natrie murmured, staring at the door through which Sera had disappeared.

"And thus my envy. I have too much conscience."

"But if we don't feel anything, when an innocent-"

"I know, Natrie. Though I believe the ends _do_ justify the means, in this instance, it's still not easy. Necessary, but not simple." Vrindo rubbed his chin. "And it can never _become_ easy, if we wish to avoid turning into what we are fighting against."

Natrie swallowed and stared down at her hands. Necessary. She knew, in her mind, that it made sense. And yet…. She thought of the most recent social event, of the young men that stood around the edge of the room, watching the older officers mingle, sometimes speaking to a higher ranking officer with those masks of false bravado firmly in place. So young, so much future. Ensign Chireth had been one of those men.

So had Lieutenant Bala.

"I know it's difficult, Natrie. You've already dealt with things few other spies have. Even long-standing spies." His eyes were soft as he smiled at her. "The shine wore off of all this rather quickly, didn't it?"

She laughed, but it was a short sound, and she fell silent quickly, feeling the weight in the air between them. "Yes."

"Usually, it lasts a bit longer. Years, sometimes, before something so drastic happens." Vrindo took a deep breath. "I don't know what it is about you that made things come to a head so quickly. But I can't let that go to waste, you have to understand.

"I do understand. You'll do anything to help the Rebellion... even flatter a woman."

"I rarely flatter someone that doesn't deserve flattering." He smiled at her startled glance. "Do you really think I could stand next to Vice Admiral Ozzel's beastly daughter and make a sincere attempt at flattery?"

Natrie burst out laughing at the thought. It was unfortunate, really, that the poor child had taken so much after her father. Natrie might feel more pity had the girl been a bit less beastly in her attitude, also.

Vrindo shuddered. "I'm not that good an actor."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I imagine you'd do quite well on the stage. You even charmed my husband, after all."

"Motivation. It's all about knowing their motivations. He's simple, really - straightforward, easy to read. It's more difficult with others, such as the Admiral. He's a sneaky sort... can never tell what's going on behind those measuring looks."

"Measuring looks!" She snorted. "You sound like a badly written holonet mystery program. This whole situation does - the dashing leader, the reluctant spy…" She trailed off.

"Reluctant?" 

She took a deep breath. "Vrindo, I can't-"

"Wait. I know what you're going to say."

"You do?" 

"We couldn't do half of what we've been able to accomplish, without your help." Vrindo moved closer to her, and her breath caught when his eyes fell on hers. "Not just the Bala situation, but the little tidbits you've found, input as to the personalities that we're dealing with…. We need you."

"You have plenty of spies." It was a guess, but she was relatively certain that it was the truth. He accepted it without argument. 

"Plenty, yes. But you are one of the best-placed."

"But not one of the best, overall. I question so much…." She trailed off, reminded of Mierie's words from the day before: _But if we don't question, and just follow orders blindly, we're no better than droids!_

"We've all questioned, at one time or another." He placed a hand over hers, squeezing it gently. 

"Sera?"

He smiled slightly. "Well, most have. Not all of us are as cold as Sera." Vrindo leaned forward, and his gaze was no longer mild, but as intense as she'd ever seen it. "Natrie, you are very valuable to us. You play your role well."

"I've had practice. I've played it too long."

"Did you ever love him?"

Stricken by the suddenness of the question, she blinked a few times at him before turning to look out of the window. For some reason, it was easier to speak about this without his eyes in her vision, though she was overly aware of his presence beside her., of his hand still resting on hers.

"Yes. Yes, I did. When I was young and blind. Too blind to see him for what he really was." His hand twitched, but when she turned to look at him his face was clear, and she decided that she must have imagined it.

"And what is he, really? All I see is ambition, stuffed into a gray suit. Is there anything else?"

"I thought there was, once. He loves his daughter-"

"And he loves you, still."

"Yes. I think he does."

"I almost pity him, then." 

They stared at each other, and this time it was Vrindo that broke the eye contact. "I think we can both use a drink." He motioned her to stay and disappeared into the kitchen

She sat back and sighed, absently cradling the hand he'd held. When she realized what she was doing she deliberately put it beside her, twisting her fingers in the spill of her cape. Its textured surface was rough against her skin, and she squeezed it tightly, seeking something to ground her.

Vrindo returned a moment later with a bottle and two mismatched goblets. He poured some of the dark red liquid into each goblet and then handed one to her.

She eyed the drink with suspicion, looking up when she heard Vrindo's chuckle. 

"Don't fret, Natrie. I promise I'm not trying to drug you, or take advantage."

_Pity_. Startled by the thought, she eyed the drink once more and, mindful of her low tolerance, she just wet her lips with the liquid. Then Vrindo smirked at her, and she knew he had noted the action.

They drank in silence for a time, then Natrie sighed. "There has to be some other way, some other…" She stopped, watching as Vrindo shook his head slowly.

"I wish there was."

"There _has_ to be!"

Sitting forward, he smiled slightly, a sad smile. "If you can think of a different method to achieve our goals, I'd love to hear it."

She swallowed. She couldn't think of a way, and they both knew it. Abandoning that argument, she sank back into the cushions, cradling the goblet. "I hate feeling so helpless."

His eyes caught hers in a gaze so intense that it would have made her squirm, if she could move. "And how helpless would you feel, if you turned your back on us, and returned to your life? You would try and try to forget what we're fighting for, try to feel a little less helpless, but you wouldn't be able to." She closed her eyes as he leaned closer, even, and she trembled when she felt his breath against her cheek. "Even more vulnerable, you'd watch and wonder, whenever something occurred, if you could have been a part of it. If you could have _helped_."

A light touch on her fingers, then he moved away. And, even as she silently cursed herself for a fool, her decision was made.

--

It was a few days before Natrie was brave enough to return to her regular lunches with Sera, but it was surprisingly easy. Sera's moods were day and night, with very little in between. Natrie made sure to schedule their meetings for when Mierie was otherwise occupied with school or friends.

She didn't realize her daughter was keeping track of how long it had been since they visited Sera together until one slow restday, while her husband was off on assignment.

Natrie had been struggling with a recipe her grandmother had left her when Mierie wandered into the kitchen. After some small talk, Mierie said, "We haven't been to Sera's lately."

"I go a couple of times a week," Natrie answered, distracted. How had her grandmother kept the filling inside the crust on this thing? She frowned at the pastry.

"I haven't, though."

"You've been in school." She just wasn't a cook, that was all; some people had certain innate talents, and that wasn't one of hers. Maybe if she stuffed more pastry dough around the edges….

"Well, she did say I could go by alone, if you couldn't come-"

The dough slipped from her hands, falling with a glomp onto the shining silver plate. "Oh." Natrie looked at her daughter. "She did?"

"Yeah. So, can I go after school tomorrow?"

"I'll pick you up and take you." 

Mierie's face fell momentarily, but she recovered in a heartbeat. Natrie's misgivings grew even more. "That would be good."

Natrie nodded and, without another word, Mierie left the kitchen. She stared after her, frowning, and Vrindo's words echoed in her mind, a neverending loop of warning. _She sees only the goal, not who is hurt along the way._


End file.
